


Beyond Here Lies Darkness

by Lotornomiko



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Abuse, Twisted Triangle, Violence, dark smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 73,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dark, alternative take to my Hook as the Dark One Series. The Dark One thoroughly seduced by the light that is Emma Swan, leaves Hook to pick up the pieces time and time again. Rape warnings in effect...The Darkness is here, and Storybrooke may never be the same...</p><p>Season Two Based, major cannon divergence.....</p><p>Fic Started in July 2013...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard Disclaimer Time: I do not own Once Upon A Time or the characters from that show. Nor do I make any money off of this story. It is done purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> \-----Michelle 
> 
> A few things I feel I need to make clear, warn about. This is NOT the sequel to Light Grasping Darkness. Instead it is a dark, alternate take on that story, a twisted tale of what if, where everything has gone horribly wrong 
> 
> There will be rape in this, it's not meant to be a particularly happy story. But perhaps a story with some hope in it. But to try to explain why might spoil too much. Suffice it to say, I am trying for something here, but it depends on how the fic flows, how the characters end up feeling and thinking in response to the events that happen. In other words, I have something I am striving for, but the characters may throw me off my planned goal for the fic. Please read with caution...
> 
> \---Michelle

The darkness stirs. Actually cracks open an eye, allowing a sliver of awareness to seep through. Lazily it takes stock, testing the invisible chains that bind it secure, applying pressure to manacles made alone on one man's strength of will. Casting claws over each link, finding the energy is weakening, the man's strength and confidence wavering. The cracks there that the Dark One finds and feels, makes the darkness wake completely. It sits up just a little straighter, it's awareness turning to the vessel himself. 

It is not immediately noticeable the cause behind the vessel's weakening. There is no sickness or infection coursing through the body. No injury caused, no healing being attempted. There's not even a particular strong magic being cast, no exacting spell causing the vessel to become distracted. There is nothing, and then the darkness finds a fleeting recognition. Remembers this feeling, this weakness for what it is. Remembering how it has been over three hundred years since it had last felt this twisting of power. 

The darkness grows excited, unable to stop it's hissing laughter. The vessel hears what others can not, the man actually flinching in reaction. Shaking as the Dark One claws harder at his insides, rattling the chains, widening the cracks in an attempt to slip free. The vessel, fool that he is, diverts his weakening energies to try and contain the darkness. The vessel knows what the darkness is capable of, knows the monstrosities the Dark One will commit, as it retaliates for over three hundred years of imprisonment. The man knows his loved ones are in danger, that they will be made to pay for HIS crimes, the darkness exacting slow, merciless retribution. 

The man fights, actually wastes precious energy on the darkness. Diverts his attention not to the approaching danger of the dagger, but to the monster within. The darkness knows the vessel has nothing but awful choices left to make. He can fight and can die, or he can let free the Dark One, let it take over the body and destroy their enemies. And all the latter will cost him is the destruction of everything he has ever held dear. 

To Rumplestiltskin there is no choice. He will fight to keep the darkness contained, fight to the bitter end. Fight as though his actions matter in any way, fight as though his death will be the end of the darkness. It won't be, and the darkness laughs all the harder for the vessels' foolish hopes. Whispering silkily in Rumplestiltskin's ear, telling him how the darkness can never truly die. That as long as there is evil in the hearts of man and woman, so long as their hatred and fear remain, there too will be the darkness. Waiting, corrupting, seducing and ultimately destroying. 

The vessel recognizes the truth that the darkness whispers to him, and the man falters for just a second. The darkness grows stronger, preparing to lunge forward, and then the dagger stabs into the vessel's heart. As Rumplestiltskin screams the chains shatter, and the darkness surges forward. Huge, rolling coils of inky blackness pore out of the opening made by the heart's piercing. 

The darkness reaches past the dagger, latches onto the hand that holds it. It caresses the unfamiliar skin, gets a taste of the man, registers the youth and vitality, the surface strength of the body. It scents the driving emotions that guide the man's actions, the hatred and the all consuming despair that cries out for vengeance. And under it, pasts wants and desires, past the raging need that has fueled him, the darkness finds the man weak. 

Weaker than Rumplestiltskin had ever been, the darkness lets out a purr of approval. It's evaluation has taken only a second, the darkness learning much about Killian Jones, and the kind of man that he is. Sweeping forward, tendrils coiling outwards to reach and cover more than just a hand, the darkness snakes up Killian Jones' arm. Swallowing him up in it's embrace, the darkness consumes, eating up the man's screams as it sets to work on fitting inside. 

The darkness worms it's way into every hidden part of Killian Jones' insides. Spreading it's awareness, taking over every vital function. It closes a fist around the man's heart, laughs at the frantic pulse of it, then swallows it too. Killian Jones screams in reaction, his knees thumping painfully against the floor following his downwards collapse. The clatter of metal on the floor makes the darkness whip it's head around, it's stolen eyes searching for the source of that sound. 

It sees the dagger on the floor, reacts in an instant, making a grab for it. But Killian Jones in his moment of despair and pain, is stronger than the darkness had ever anticipated. He resists the darkness' command, instead bringing a hand up to grab at his chest. The darkness snarls, tears up the vessel from the inside, making the man scream louder. The darkness screams too, all that fury and rage made worse when the dagger is snatched off of the floor, by a pale, feminine hand. 

Blood red finger nails caress the dagger almost lovingly. The darkness reacts, it's stolen body jerky in it's movements as Killian Jones staggers to his feet. The man and the darkness are in agreement this one moment, both glaring in their shared body as they look at the woman who now handles the dagger. 

"Oh, Hook..." tsks the woman who has her shoulder length hair done up in an elaborate bun. "No, no, this won't do. I won't have you looking at me in that way." 

"Cora..." Killian Jones practically spits out the name. "You bitch." 

Her eyes flash in warning, the darkness bracing itself for the slash of power she sends their way. The vessel falls to the floor, but his torn cheek is already healing. 

"Is that anyway to speak to your queen and master?!" Cora demands, magic crackling around her right hand. The darkness takes note, understanding that this woman is formidable, even without the dagger in her control. 

"You tricked me!" The darkness hears it's vessel say. 

"You tricked yourself." Cora retorts. "Honestly Hook. You didn't really think you could use the dagger on Rumplestiltskin and not pay a price." She pauses, and looks at the vessel. "Oh....oh dear..." A stunned breath from her, and then she laughs. "You did. How stupidly naive of you." 

The darkness feels the man grimace, the anger not yet turning in on himself. Killain Jones is focusing his rage outwards, focusing his fury on the woman, snarling at her for her betrayals. "You wanted this to happen." He accuses, and Cora nods. "From the moment I read that map, you were counting on me being the one to find and use that dagger." 

"Oh, I was counting on it a lot sooner than that." Cora told him. "After all it's not as if I could let myself or my daughter become the new vessel for the Dark One." 

"The vessel..." Killian Jones frowns, still not understanding. He doesn't completely realize what he's done, what's he become, or that his body is now nothing more than a host to the darkness within. The darkness keeps quiet for now, it's attention more for the woman and the dagger she holds than any confusion that the man is dealing with. 

"No....it's far better to be the master of the darkness, then be slave to it." Cora continued. "Though I'm not at all sorry to tell you, you don't have the luxury of that choice any more." She stepped closer to the man, actually touches the tip of the dagger to his bottom lip. "You know what this is, what it's capable of doing..." 

The darkness lunges, trying for the dagger. Cora immediately pulled back, her mocking laugh accompanying her movements. "Ah ah ah. You really didn't think it would be that easy, did you?" 

The darkness feels Killian Jones confusion, the man actually stammering as he spoke. "My...my body....it moved on it's own..." 

"There's going to be a lot of that, I suspect. After all, Rumplestiltskin you are not. But no matter. Hook, or should I say the Dark One, you WILL do my bidding." 

"I will not!" Killain Jones shouts. That elegant hand is backed with magic, as the woman slaps Killian Jones across the face with it. 

"No one refuses me." She snapped. "Not the Dark One, and certainly not some pathetic pirate. And now...Hook...you're going to get up off that floor, march out of this shop, and help my daughter deal with our enemies." 

"No." Killian Jones spat. "I won't." 

"Dark One I command you!" The woman's snarl was accompanied by the backlash of a magic far stronger then hers. The darkness felt the chains take hold, felt the leash collar him, binding him to the will and wishes of the one who held the dagger. The darkness roared, eyes narrowed at Cora, wanting and waiting for it's chance. Vowing that one day this witch would find her slender neck snapped in two by the darkness' own hands. But for now it heeded it's slaver's call, staggering upright, the body still not acclimatized completely to it's new dual inhabitance. 

Killian Jones fought, a dim witted understanding dawning inside him. He wasn't alone in his body, some malignant and alien force controlling his actions. Making him walk to the front of the shop, the darkness not allowing him to so much as flinch in reaction to the stray bolt of magic that suddenly blew apart the window's glass. 

The glass crunched underfoot, sound seeming magnified. Over it, the darkness heard the shouts, saw the colors of more magic in the air. The otherworldly bolts of energy zig zagged about, their deflection causing damage to the surrounding buildings. Explosions followed their landing, the magic chaotic and violent, ripping things apart. 

It was just the kind of chaos and strife the darkness reveled in. The kind of violent nightmare the Dark One was capable of making all too real. Even as it resented the orders given to it by the woman Cora, the darkness found it's appetite wetted, something very much like excitement coiling within it at the chance to do some real damage. 

Ripping the door free of the shop, the darkness preceded Cora in stepping outside. A bolt of magic raced passed it's face, the darkness turning. It was promptly dazzled, an unexpected light blazing bright across the street. It wasn't a light from the windows, and it wasn't a light from the street lamps. The sky was dark and overcast with clouds, the light shining as bright if not brighter than the sun that was hidden. 

The darkness forgot how to breathe, staring at the light. Strong as it was bright, it was a white beacon of purity, of magic most holy. It was like nothing the darkness had ever seen, the power and warmth of that untainted light something never before encountered, not even in all the long years that the Dark One had existed. 

The light was something so different and wholly unique that the darkness ignored the fighting around it. Staring transfixed at the light, nearly blinded by it. Wanting the light, yet fearing it's touch, the darkness hadn't yet noticed the other oddity about the dazzling power. The person within the light, the power radiating not so much from her body, but from her soul. 

The pain crashing into the darkness from behind, broke the enchantment. The darkness roared, the woman Cora behind it. She was screaming at the Dark One, ordering it to do as she commanded. Resentment curled inside the darkness, the Dark One snarling. Held back by an invisible force, it glared at the one who had enslaved it. 

"Destroy them!" Cora was saying. "Destroy them all!" 

The darkness tensed, it's magic gathering. Those marked for death would suffer a dozen times worse then needed, the darkness making them pay in ways it could not yet do to Cora. It called upon the most twisted of it's arsenal, magic to make the flesh peel from ones bones, to make one hold and crush their own heart in their hands, even magic to cause one to drown in every one of their own filthy fluids. The darkness planned to unleash all that and more, prepared to fling out the spells, and instead found it's arms frozen. 

"What are you waiting for?!" Cora screamed in demand. "I said to destroy them!" 

The darkness tried again, and not so much as a finger moved. It felt sweat bead on the sides of it's face, felt the sheer determination of the vessel as the man called on all his reserves to hold the darkness at bay. The darkness snarled in frustration, scrapped claws over Killian Jones from the inside of his body. A grunt was his reward, Killian Jones biting down on his lip hard enough to bleed. 

With the coppery metallic taste of blood on it's tongue, the darkness heard Killian Jones scream. "While you still can, run!" 

There was a frozen moment of inaction, the only real movement and sound from the flames eating away at the damaged buildings. It was over quicker than the blink of an eye, shouts accompanying the action. Loudest of all was the woman, Cora. She practically screeched in fury, the death and destruction she wished for being denied to her not by the darkness, but by the will of the pirate alone. 

"What are you doing?!" Cora screamed, vicious in her anger, as her magic slapped Killian Jones in the face. The man grunted in response, his force of will slipping. Not by much, and certainly not enough for the darkness to regain control. The darkness paced inside Killain Jones' body, trying to practice a patience that it didn't at all feel. 

"Mother, they're getting away!" Another voice spoke, angry and female. 

"They won't for long, my daughter." Cora promised, her voice still so full of anger. "The Dark One will see to that!" 

When Killian Jones opened his mouth to make some biting retort, it was not his voice that emerged, but that of the darkness. At it's furious roar, even Cora looks frightened, taking a step back for her own safety. The darkness barely pays her any mind, having noticed what the others have not. That the light, ever bright and pure, was moving. Was running away from this place, from the chaos and the fighting, from the darkness itself. 

Snarling in protest, the darkness tried to chase after the light. It came up against the flimsy, weakening will of one Killian Jones, the man groaning in pain. The darkness screamed, began pounding on the barrier that separated it and Killian Jones' conflicting desires. It hammered fists of steel into it and Killian, scraped and clawed hard enough to bleed the body, bit down on mouthfuls of tender flesh. Killain Jones a weak willed man by nature, would fall under the onslaught, the darkness filling his eyes. 

Where Killian Jones fell, the darkness rose. The sense of urgency it felt, had nothing to do with the commands given to it by Cora. It ignored the pain her magic and the dagger would inflict on it, the darkness resisting the murderous compulsions of it's slaver. 

Instead, with the backlash of magic most painful coursing through it, the darkness turned to track the bobbing path of the light. It had already traveled far, reduced itself to a mere glittering speck in the distance. So small as to be imagined, the darkness still moved, intent on following after it, on getting close to it. Wanting to touch the light, to be near it, to study it, to possess it. 

Wanting to hoard that gleaming brightness for it's very own, the darkness moved. A false night went with it, inky blackness eating away at the surroundings, casting Storybrooke into a darkness that might prove eternal. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	2. Two

The darkness ate away at everything, stripping the colors and the joy from the land. Twisting the landscape into a cold, bleak world of grays and browns. The lights from the houses that it passed were blown out, glass a constant shower as street lamps imploded. The people caught out on the streets ran, their instincts awakened by a self preservation that was ancient. A self preservation that remembered the darkness, and what it had once been capable of. 

The darkness is ancient, a being brought into life when the very first man had felt his first flicker of fear. The darkness is everything, every wild and twisted impulse, every frightened thought and malicious desire. The darkness is greed, is anger, is hate, is lust, is motive and revenge and every other wicked impulse that man has ever had and made a million times worse because the Dark One has been around just short of forever. 

The darkness is man's evil incarnate, a sleek, finely honed predator that lurks in the night. And this is the night, after three hundred years of confinement have passed, that the darkness has been set free. With a deep gnawing hunger for life, the darkness finds it is ravenous. Wanting to consume all in it's path, the darkness is relentless, it's evil held back only because it is distracted. By the light, ever gleaming, ever beckoning, calling to the darkness with it's wholly unique and untainted purity. 

The darkness stalks the light, runs after it so hard it swears it feels it's vessel panting for air. The darkness doesn't slow, feeling a desperation it is not at all used to, and doesn't at all like. A desperation that tells it that to slow now would result in it's losing the light for forever. And that is something the darkness doesn't want, is something it actually finds intolerable the thought of. And so it runs, knowing that the bright, elusive light can only avoid the darkness for so long. Watching as it grows from a glittering speck in the distance, to something larger, fist sized, and then even bigger until the darkness is upon it, reaching for it. 

For one all too brief second, they touch. The Dark One actually gasps, finding the light is everything that the darkness is not. Warm and soft to the touch, the light is brilliant and shining and the darkness wants to wrap around it, pull it close and never let it go. It wants to cover the light, take that warmth for it's own. It wants to hide the light from prying eyes, lock it in shadows where only the darkness may see. It wants to extinguish it from the world, bury it deep in the night, where not even whispers can reach. 

And then the light is burning brighter, almost blinding in it's brilliance. Pain spikes in the vessel, something sharp slashing open the man's chest. The darkness is stunned, feels not one, but two swords, each stabbing into a different part of the vessel. The darkness screams, lashes out with it's arms. The light is sent away flying, and the darkness follows once more. It is waiting as the light hits the ground, hand reaching for it, ignoring the arrows that slam into it's back. 

The pain is nothing to the darkness, should be nothing more than a nuisance to the vessel it inhabits. But deep inside, the pain reaches to the corner where Killian Jones lays, battered by and tossed aside by the darkness. So weak at first, the darkness doesn't take note of Killian Jones raising his head. Doesn't care to investigate the new found tension within the stolen vessel. It ignores the warning signs, stays focused on the light, and this time it is no gentle touch that is shared. 

The light lashes out, twisting and turning in the darkness' grasp. Fighting every step of the way, both trying to halt the darkness' progression, and trying to get away. The first real irritation flares at the light's open defiance, the darkness becoming violent. Slapping back, then grabbing at the light, closing fingers around a slender neck, it pulls the light closer. Actually growls into the face of it. 

The light continues it's struggles, nails digging into the darkness' arm. Immediate is the retaliation, the darkness squeezing. It hears a sound, a voice choking on it's own breath, and the light starts to flicker in an alarming way. Almost as if it will go out, as if the light will just give up and die. 

Not understanding, the darkness shakes the light. The light flickers again, then goes dim. The darkness sees what it hadn't before, sees the woman who is the source of that beautiful light. It sees the savior, Storybrooke's very own hero, but most of all it sees the woman Killian Jones has come to admire. 

The darkness is confused, feels a horror that is not it's own, bubbling up inside it. Killian Jones is rising up from within, attempting to retake the vessel, to gain control over it and the darkness. For one uncertain moment, the darkness doesn't fight, just stands back and lets the pirate have his way. 

The hand around the woman's neck starts to relax, and her reaction is immediate. A great gasping breath is taken, her eyes snapping open. The darkness sees her bright green eyes, sees in them the fierce will and strong determination, a moment before her inner light is restored. 

Killian Jones looks right into that brilliance, and sees not the light, but the woman. The darkness sees what Killian Jones sees, the soft skin, the sensual features, the long, golden hair that is a fitting match to the light that shines from within her. The woman is beautiful both outside and in, appealing to both the darkness and the pirate but fit for neither one. But where the darkness is selfish, the pirate tries in this one instant to be something more. 

Speaking in a voice that cracks as though from a great deal of disuse, Killian Jones urges the light to run. The darkness inside him recoils, lashes out with a snarl. The vessel's body bends, seeming as though the darkness will claw it's way out of it's very skin, the pain that it then inflicts immense and not stopping the man from his worry. 

"For God's sake Emma, run!" 

The woman that is both the light and yet wholly human, takes an uncertain step back. And then another, and another, putting distance between them, but not actually running. The darkness feels Killian Jones' frustration at the woman's defiance. The stark fear, and the open anger, and the darkness feeds off of both, is empowered by the negative energy Killian Jones' emotions give off. 

Killian Jones doesn't realize his mistake in time, the darkness surging forward effortlessly. Knocking him aside, actually taking control of the vessel, and grabbing for the woman. It hisses in her face, watches that inner light of hers flicker under it's choking grip. It's fascinated by the power it has over her, by the control it has over the light. Flaring bright one moment, then flickering dimly, the darkness knows it could extinguish the light completely. And all it would take is one crushing squeeze of it's hand. 

The darkness hesitates, playing with the light. Staring at the woman, at the struggle in her eyes. A fire burns there, determined but weakening as the darkness cuts off her air. The darkness is fascinated anew, not knowing many if any humans that could look their death in the face, and not feel anything but fear. 

Intrigued, it presses against her. Actually brings it's lips to growl against hers. "You should have run." And it's both the Dark One and Killian who speak as one, the man struggling, trying to climb his way out of the darkness around him. 

The flickering light suddenly flares bright with the woman's defiance. "Go to hell!" She spits against his mouth, and pain hits the vessel right between it's thighs. 

More bemused than anything, the darkness allows Killian Jones to feel the pain that the light has inflicted. He screams inside the vessel, and the darkness laughs. It is an awful sound, like bone crunching under tires. Even the light can't not be affected by such a sound, the woman shivering in the darkness' grasp. A grasp that tightens once more, the darkness reveling in the power it has over the light. 

A life and death decision plays out, the woman reaching out with a hand to ward off the coming darkness. That unexpected touch against the vessel's skin, makes the darkness hiss in surprise. It feels her warmth, feels the goodness inside her, that untapped power that could one day be brilliant enough to destroy even the dark. So much potential and it's not enough, the darkness knowing how easy it would be to put an end to the threat the light might one day become. 

Killian Jones has felt the woman's touch also, and his is a wholly different reaction than that of the darkness. Instead of noting the power and potential the woman has inside her, Killian Jones reacts in a more primal way. Longing fills him, and it's not all to do with the desire that she get away. Killian Jones WANTS this woman, wants her hands on him. The darkness takes note of this, for it too understands wants and desires, even if it's all twisted inside. 

And it is twisted, Killian Jones wanting her but also afraid. For her and of her, for the desires she rouses, for the feeling of hope that she gives him. The private thoughts of Killian Jones are an open book for the darkness to read, it turns the pages, and finds the secret hopes and fears of the pirate. Killian Jones thinks this woman could be the one to heal him, make him forget his hurt and his pain, and that leaves him terrified. 

Fighting against everything that the woman makes him feel, especially now that the darkness stands between them, Killian Jones can't stop his interest from showing as the woman's hand continues to push at his chest. The darkness feeding off of Killian Jones, feels it too, actually pulls it to the forefront of it's expression. The woman notices, and thinks it's the man she's dealing with, and not the Dark One. 

A crafty, calculating gleam births in her eyes, the woman no longer fighting so hard to get away. The pressure of her hand changes, becomes something different. Soft and caressing, instead of that hard, unyielding pressure of violence, the woman is touching the darkness. Stroking fingers down it's body, leaving trails of warmth that light a rising heat from within. The breath the darkness lets out, is a sharp hiss of sound, the creature confused but wanting more. Staring at the woman, seeing the shaky breath she takes, a moment before she smiles. 

Stunned, the darkness can only stand there, as she places both hands on it's body. The vessel actually trembles, it's skin quivering in reaction to the caressing motion of the woman's hands. The darkness no stranger to violent lust, finds itself shaking with it, with urges that are both it's own and that of Killian Jones. 

Tensing with the need to act on those urges, the darkness is nearly brought to it's knees at the touch of the woman's hand on it's cock. Already lusting so strongly, it nearly explodes from the feel, from the exquisite pressure of the woman's soft hand squeezing around it. The darkness so close to being undone, doesn't resist when Killian Jones steps forward to take control from it. Can only mewl in soft pleasure, as mouths clash together, lips hungry and devouring, smothering gasps, and leaving all three panting. 

The woman, with the light shining in her eyes, breathes out an invitation. Bites down on the vessel's bottom lip. Killian Jones shudders in reaction, a name being offered up to the air. "Emma..." 

The darkness takes note, whispers the name to itself. Coiling around even that, it acts where the vessel would hesitate, seizing the woman, and her invitation, letting the shadows consume them. Swallowed up in darkness, the three finds themselves spit out elsewhere in Storybrooke, a room stolen from Killian Jones' memory, a place that is both private and safe. Perfect for the darkness, for what it wants to do, for what it was offered, for what it intends to take. It presses the woman Emma against the nearest hard surface, actually traps her with it's body. The darkness lets her feel every hard inch of it's body, makes her aware of the strength and the power that lay tense under it's stretched skin. Most of all the darkness makes her nervous, the woman Emma noticeably swallowing back an involuntary gasp. 

It stares at her with the face of Killian Jones, it's attention unwavering. Seeing the wide eyed look she gives him, the way Emma bites at her bottom lip. It can tell she's not entirely sure, that the woman doesn't know if it's the man or the monster she is dealing with. The darkness licks it's lips, and notices the way her bright colored gaze dips down to follow that brief movement. It is too much, the darkness seizing a handful of her hair. That tight fisting grip is one of control, and the darkness uses it to hold her steady. 

The kiss is all tongue and heat, the urgent bruising pressure of a mouth that is hungry, starving for this contact. The darkness consumes, swallows up the mewling sounds that the woman is making, forgets that she is still human and needs a chance to just breathe. It feels her desperate struggles, feels her squirm her soft pleasing body against it's own. Most of all it notes her hands, the way they try to push back the immoveable force that is the darkness intent on it's prize. 

Emma sways, actually sags against the grip it has on her hair. Just this once, the darkness relents, allowing her the illusion that she has pushed back the Dark One. The woman's chest heaves with her panting breaths, and she leans against the hard surface of what might be a desk. Her eyes remain on the darkness, the smallest of smiles offered up to appease it. 

"Easy there pirate." Emma says in breathless entreaty. "Got to give a girl room to breathe." Her hand on the vessel's chest, plays fingers against it's skin, finds and tweaks a nipple and it is as though she is still holding a squeezing grip on the darkness' cock. The darkness trembles as it's desire grow even stronger, the lightest touches of this woman sending the fiercest pangs of want coursing through it. Suddenly it feels as if the darkness is the one that can't breathe, staggered back by the light, by the maddening way it's bearer toys with him. The darkness uncertain for the first time in it's ancient and storied existence, falters, and it is Killian Jones who now benefits from Emma's touch. 

"Emma..." KIllian Jones is still struggling with himself, still trying to do the right thing. The pirate knows he should push Emma away, force her to listen to him this time, and make her run. But she feels so good next to him, with her body fitted against his. The pirate lies to himself that it will only be for a second, that there is no harm in delaying just a little bit more. Killian Jones tells himself it will be okay, that SHE will be okay, all the while knowing it's a lie, that he's blinding himself to the danger, and then Emma is KISSING him. And it feels too good to stop. 

The darkness holds back, watching from the shadows. It's not exactly hiding, but a part of it is afraid. Confused by the light, by the woman, by the intensity of it's desires, it doesn't want or need Killian Jones' own complex feelings distorting things further. But a line is blurring, both man and darkness wanting to posses the woman in ways that are both different from each other yet exactly the same. 

The woman isn't helping things, a fierce being of passions and need. Burning with a bright intensity that even Killian Jones can see. The darkness in it's corner, feels the man's rising hunger, feels how he lets it distract him from what needs to be done. The darkness keeps quiet, holds absolutely still, not wanting to remind the vessel of it's lurking presence. 

It works, the man losing himself to the moment, freeing his inhibitions with a growl. With strength he doesn't notice is inhuman, he splits the woman's red leather jacket in two, the ruined halves being shucked off her body. Her shirt follows the jacket, her tanned skin gleaming golden against the black contrast of her lace bra. 

The darkness' mouth waters, the pirate caressing over all that smooth expanse of skin. Making the woman lean back, a sweet sigh escaping her, as Killian Jones worships at her flesh. At the way work rough fingers caress over her abdomen, the way her belly quivers in response to his hand drawing circles into her skin. Another sweet sound escapes her, Killian Jones pressing an open mouth kiss on one of Emma's bare shoulders. Her arms raise, her fingers sinking into the pirate's hair, and the darkness wants to purr like a cat being stroked. 

One taste of her skin, and the pirate can't control himself. He's kissing and licking, nibbling a path from shoulder to collar. Marring that golden skin's perfection with the imprints of his teeth, Killian Jones laves affection on the woman, nipping at her throat, while his hand cups her right breast and gives it a small squeeze. 

A moan is issued out of Emma, her head falling back, her throat offered up to Killian Jones' lips. She continues fingering his hair, actually stroking encouragement to him, and her fingers go into a frenzy when his thumb presses down on her breast's stiffening nipple. That tiny pebbled flesh, seems instrumental in stoking the fire within her, Emma crying out at the pirate's determined caress. His thumb moves in circles, presses down then releases it, only to the repeat the circular caress. 

Emma is actually whining in need by the time Killian Jones kisses down to her breasts. Actively trying to push herself against his lips. Gasping, then crying out, the bra lost to the man's hook, as his mouth greedily covers the nipple that he has been teasing. Killian Jones and the darkness moan together, the Dark One inching closer to the light. Tasting Emma with it's own superior senses, learning her reactions, responding to the sweet sound of her voice. 

A wild thing as both the darkness and the pirate are discovering, Emma is aloft with pleasure, squirming in place long before she's ever even touched between her legs. With the vessel's mouth against her throat, the rest of Emma's clothing is shucked away. She positively sings as it's fingers stroke and caress her, spreading the wetness that continues to gather around her, slipping inside her and making her bounce back against the vessel's hand. 

Emma clings to the darkness, to it and the pirate, and in this moment she doesn't care whose hand she is grinding against. She merely feels, giving in to the experience, wriggling her hips and bucking back, trying to take the fingers in deeper. Her own fingers digs into the vessel's shoulders, the darkness intent on her expression, on the raw sexuality she exudes. Watching as her mouth forms a perfect o, her body shuddering as wave after wave of pulse pounding pleasure hits, the darkness can wait no more. 

Swallowing up her cries with it's mouth, it's clothing nothing more than an impediment that it's magic destroys, the darkness surges forward. Thrusts it's throbbing cock into the woman, hearing her sharp cry as Emma's aroused flesh welcomes the penetration. The darkness sinks into her heat, feels the wet flesh coil around it, and it feels happy. 

And then the urgency hits, the darkness needing to move. To push more of it inside her, shifting it's hips forward, making Emma squeal. Her legs lift, and her ankles cross behind it, Emma clawing at it's back. This pain the darkness understands, responds to with a mighty heave of it's hips. The woman rocks back, actually bumps into the desk behind her, and the darkness continues. Bending them both over the desk, noting how Emma refuses to relinquish her arms' grip, the darkness moves, generating sweet, satisfying friction inside her. 

In this moment, it is not just Emma Swan and Killian Jones, not merely a man and a woman, who have joined together. It is the darkness and the light, two being who couldn't be more different, who shouldn't be wrapped together. The light is too pure, the darkness too greedy. One will consume the other, the darkness too quick to hurt and destroy. Especially a fleeting existence like the light, it's brilliance easily snuffed out in the blink of an eye. 

The darkness doesn't care, too selfish, too grasping. It has touched the light that is Emma Swan, and it wants more. And sees no reason why it can't have it, her everything and her all. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....


	3. Three

The room is in shambles, furniture knocked on it's side, even broken in the case of the desk. Stacks of paper have spilled everywhere, and a map has been torn down from it's spot on the wood paneled wall. A chest is overturned, it's trinkets and treasures spit out when the lid had been snapped open. Emma can't even remember how half of these things had happened, the many moments blurring together, making it impossible to know up from down, let alone when and how. 

The one thing Emma Swan is certain of is at some point they have ended up on the bed. With it's crimson and black sheets, which have been rumpled and kicked aside, the bed groans under their weight. It creaks constantly with their movements. The bed handles the strain better than the desk, though the same can't be said for the woman herself. 

Emma Swan is tired, her body pushed to it's limits. Stimulated beyond belief, her body struggles to match the pace that has been set. But the god like endurance of the man beneath her, is not something a human can match. Not even the woman who has the power of the savior glowing inside her. 

Emma doesn't know that she is burning brighter with every passing moment. That she glows from the inside out, that brilliant light complimenting the sheen of her skin, the golden gleam of her hair, and even the bright green of her eyes. That otherworldly light is inching closer to being blown out, blazing hotter in it's final moments. 

Emma doesn't know that, and the darkness doesn't seem to care. It's simply too lost in it's love affair with the light that is Emma Swan. Selfish creature that it is, will it even be sorry once it realizes what it's done? Will it show an ounce of remorse, or will it turn furious, like a petulant child denied it's favorite toy? 

Emma Swan knows things have gotten out of hand, that she's lost what little control she has tried for. Her poor attempts at manipulating the darkness haven't gained her much of anything, beyond muscles that are sore. The darkness seems inexhaustible, always hungering for more. Wanting what Emma can no longer give it, the darkness doesn't understand the concept of no. 

Emma's left wondering when and why this had ever seemed like a good idea. She's forgotten her reasons, the desperation that drove her. She cant even remember the faces of her loved ones, can only see the darkness before her, the monster that gazes back at her with eyes it has stolen. 

It hurts to see those ocean blue eyes swallowed up by the darkness. To watch those sensual lips curve up in a smile that is NOT his. Emma doesn't even know if anything of Captain Hook remains, if Killian Jones hasn't already been destroyed by the darkness. Pain twists in her gut, Emma already missing Hook. 

The darkness raises it's hand, actually takes the time to cup Emma's cheek. It strokes over the tear that has fallen, brings that single glinting droplet to it's lips. It finds even that sweet, and suddenly, viciously jerks on Emma's hair. The resulting watering of her eyes, the cry of pain Emma then lets out, pleases the darkness. 

Her vision blurring, Emma feels unbalanced. She clings to the darkness, not because she wants to, but because it is the only way to keep from falling. The swaying of her body, is at odds with the way the darkness makes her bounce on it's lap. The room is spinning, faster and faster, and Emma can't get enough air to breathe. Spots start exploding before her, and it's not a scream but a whimper that precedes her complete collapse. 

Emma is surprised when she wakes up. Surprised that she's not dead. She's not entirely sure what has happened, how much time has passed, or even where exactly she is. But there is a weight across her breasts, a body pressed into her side. A soft rumble of sound is in her ear, a warm breath teasing against her skin. 

It is the darkness, still taking up space inside Hook's body. Unbelievable, but it has fallen asleep, it's arm across her breasts, cradling Emma close in a grip that will turn possessive if given the slightest chance. 

Emma doesn't immediately try to get out of the bed. She simply hurts in ways no person was ever meant to feel. Her muscles are sore, spots of her positively aching with overuse, Emma knows how it will hurt to stand. She lays back in the deceiving comfort that the bed and it's pillows offer, tempted to believe it will all be all right, that she can afford to waste just a few minutes more of time. 

But time waits for no one, and every second passed is a second wasted. Emma holds in her sigh, tries to gather her strength. Moves with a cat like grace, as she shifts carefully out from under the arm. A snort sounds from the body besides her, Emma first freezing then slipping a pillow under the arm. Immediately the pillow is pulled, crushed against the darkness' chest. 

Shaking, Emma inches the rest of the way off the bed. Nearly cries out as her legs wobble, so daringly close to giving out. It is her sheer strength of will, that desperate determination that forces Emma to remain upright, that allows her to take one painful step forward. It doesn't get easier the more she moves, Emma hurt in a way that requires more rest. 

But she keeps going, fearing this will be her only chance. She pads naked across the floor, keeps a hand on the wall though that doesn't help much against the room's swaying. Something rolls past her bare toes, the sound of it making her freeze. A paranoid look at the bed, where Hook---the darkness, still grips the pillow, allows Emma to breathe a little better. She resumes her trek forward, feet shuffling against the floor, Emma not quite able to walk right. 

Emma wouldn't have tried to look for her clothes, even if they hadn't been ruined earlier. Ripped and tossed, the remains of her clothing are lost amongst the room's mess. But a shirt is found, black silk that's hem falls down past her knees. It is the only thing she takes, her one concession to her modesty's needs. 

Emma is not yet to the point where she is willing to cast aside all shame. Not desperate enough to run naked from the darkness, she can only pray the time spent on obtaining the shirt won't ultimately cost her. 

Emma doesn't have much of a plan, when she takes her first painful steps out onto the deck of the Jolly Roger. Doesn't know much of anything except that she has to get away. And with the pain that she is feeling, her legs won't be able to carry her far. She needs to ride, and can only be thankful the harbor isn't far from the town's main street, Emma holding a vague recollection that her beloved yellow car is parked directly across from Gold's shop. 

Emma's not worrying about the chance her car might have been caught in the crossfire of the fighting that had taken place on the main street. Nor is she particularly concerned with the fact that she's missing her car keys. Emma doesn't care that she lacks the tools needed to break into and hot wire her own car, the woman simply too focused on reaching the vehicle. It's one thing at a time for Emma, the only real way she can keep herself from getting hysterical. 

It's simply been too much for Emma, and even the savior can't be strong all the time. Not with her legs shaking, aching muscles actually hurting, Emma exhausted and running on empty. It's not just her body that suffers, her mind is conflicted, emotions twisted up and confused. It's too hard to focus, and what she does think about only upsets her. 

Especially because Emma is sure she is forgetting something important. But it's hard to know what, to remember anything else but the darkness. To remember the sex, which has started out pretty fucking amazing, only to go horrible wrong as Hook was swallowed up by the darkness from within. What Emma wouldn't give to have Hook back, to see him, HIM, smirking at her and making lewd insinuations about the situation they had found themselves in. 

In the moment, Emma doesn't care that it's all Hook's fault for the situation that she finds herself in. She just wants the pirate back, wants the relative safety and normalcy he would bring. But he's gone, and might never be coming back, and things aren't normal or safe, or even sane. For even in Emma's preoccupied state, she has noticed the strangeness. The empty streets, and the fact that it is darker than midnight during what should be the blazing brightness of a summer day. 

The false night scares her, makes her think of the darkness. Every sound Emma hears, has her tensing in fear, each skitter and crash convincing her the pursuit is drawing near. It's far too huge a relief, when she spies the bright yellow color of her beloved car. She nearly collapses in place, but somehow finds the strength to keep moving, rather than wilt in relief. 

She stumbles the rest of the way, falls against the passenger side, and still manages a shaky laugh. The dents on the side are small, the car otherwise undamaged. Emma is more than relieved, she is counting her blessings, even as she scouts about for a rock of some sort, to use to smash open the window. 

And then the unnatural bellow is heard, voicing an otherworldly anger that makes Emma's skin crawl. She knows in her heart what has made that sound, actually panics, and brings her bare fist to plant against the window's glass. It doesn't break on the first impact. Emma has to punch the car window several more times, actually sliced up her hand with the glass, before it shatters. 

But it's just more pain to the hurt she already feels, Emma ignoring the blood, and opening the door. Readying herself to outrace the darkness, Emma is roughly hauled back before she can climb into the car. 

Screaming, Emma lashes out with her arms. Strikes out with the fist that isn't torn up and bleeding, and gets shaken for her efforts. An inhumane growl follows those actions, Hook's voice never meant to distort in such a way. But then it's not Hook that she's dealing with, though the darkness still wears that wickedly handsome face, making it's lips snarl and it's eyes bleed of all color and it's STILL him but not, and Emma wants to cry. 

She screams instead, continuing to lash out, her arms a fury of violent motion. Beating her fist against whatever is in reach, a chest, a face, the side of his head. Being shaken like a rag doll, then grabbed at by the throat, the darkness slams Emma into the side of her car. It gets right in her face, moves it's lips against her as it hisses and speaks. 

"You shouldn't have run." 

Emma chokes on her own hysterical laughter. The words are too similar, Emma remembering when Hook had all but begged her to run. She hadn't then, and now she wasn't able, her legs shaking, and in no way ready to support her any longer. 

That halting laughter, it doesn't actually confuse the darkness so much as annoy it. It's eyes narrow, and Emma knows she's about to be hurt worse, and she can't stop laughing. Even as it tightens it's fingers around her throat, Emma can't stop, choking, gasping, and she doesn't know why she finds this so funny when it's about to get her killed or worse. 

"You shouldn't have run." The darkness repeats, and the malevolent look it gives her, makes Emma swear that her blood has turned cold. "And you won't." 

"Won't I?" Emma is not sure where that suicidal defiance comes from, but she fears what it will result in. She swears an impatient look covers the darkness' face, and Emma knows what could appease it. But she's in no way ready for THAT, and Emma can't seem to think straight for any other option to make itself known. 

"You won't." The darkness scowls. "Say it! Say that you won't!" 

She doesn't say it and mean it, and yet at Emma's soft utterance, the darkness seems to lose some of it's anger. Some but not all of it, it's grip still on her throat, holding Emma up on tip toe as it pins her against the car. 

"Say it again." The darkness orders. "Say that you won't ever try to leave me." 

The words tumble out of Emma's mouth, her voice echoing from a distance in her ears. The tension doesn't quite leave the darkness, though the grip on her throat is relaxing bit by bit. The darkness is not quite smiling, still looking for something from Emma. It's as though it NEEDS the reassurance, as though Emma is a favorite pet that has gone and done something unexpected, something unwanted. Something that has upset the precious balance of everything the darkness had thought it had ever known about her. 

"I won't leave you..." It hurts to say that, the words falling like lead from Emma's mouth. "I promise." It is a lie, but it is one the darkness wants to hear. A lie it believes all the stronger, when Emma forces a weak smile, and nerves herself to place her hand on it's face. 

That unblinking stare doesn't actually soften, but the darkness seems pleased all the same. It actually nuzzles her hand, like it's forgiving Emma for what she had done, for what she had tried to do. Emma keeps that fake smile plastered on her face, but inside she is screaming and most of all plotting. Determined to do exactly what she had just promised not to, Emma waits only because now is not the right time. 

Not knowing when, or if the opportunity will present itself, Emma can only pray. And hope, and wish, and dream for a better future. Because her present is bleak, surreal and downright dangerous, the darkness still pressed against her, and looking like it wants to eat her up all over again. 

She immediately tries to drop her hand, but the darkness is catching at it, pressing her fingers to it's lips. First kissing, then sucking on the tips, the darkness maintains it's stare. Emma's expression has frozen, her stomach twisting into knots. Emma wants to believe the darkness doesn't intend anything more by these actions, but her gut instincts screams that it does. 

Especially when it's using Hook's mouth to slicken and tease her fingers, treating them like they are a tasty treat. She's not sure what to do, how to get her hand free without setting the darkness off. Emma doesn't have to fake the weakness of her body, as she leans into the car at her back. The darkness purrs, and with a resounding pop of sound, lets go of her fingers. 

And then HIS fingers are touching HER mouth, the darkness brushing a thumb over Emma's bottom lip before sliding it and two more digits past. Emma makes a startled sound, tastes the flavor of the salty sea, and then the darkness is twisting, thrusting those fingers to get them nice and wet. It watches her as it does this, watches the play of it's fingers being thrust into Emma's mouth. It's gaze narrows down so that all it can see is her lips wrapped around a part of it, and it purrs, actually smiles and Emma's heart breaks just a little more. 

She sucks when encouraged, rolls her tongue around the fingers and closes her eyes. Concentrating on the taste, the feel of the fingers in her mouth, Emma tries to ignore the hook and it's cold, cold metal, as it caress her thigh. Her skin prickles in reaction, the hook caressing circles over it, creeping away instead of towards the part of her body she is most concerned about. 

Emma knows she shouldn't relax, but a touch on the back of her knee seems harmless. Harmless until the darkness shifts, her leg being hooked over the bend in it's arm. Lifted and held, leaving Emma to stand in a spread stance, pain sparks at this exposed, vulnerable position. 

Emma makes a protesting sound around the fingers in her mouth, snaps open her eyes which are colored with worry. The darkness still smiling lets Emma suck on it's fingers for a few seconds more, before jerking them out. It is with those fingers, so wet from Emma's mouth, that the darkness touches between her legs. 

Immediately, Emma tries to twist away. "No, please!" She gasps out. The darkness doesn't heed her, and instead strokes those wet fingers over every velvety inch of her. Emma gasps, and cringes, recoils even more. Goes up on awkward tip toe, and still can't avoid him. 

With the aches and the pain, the soreness that has never quite gone away, what the darkness does actually hurts, Emma trembling and afraid. Even when the darkness starts stroking over her clit, Emma can't stop her panic and revulsion. Can't stop fearing what those fingers will do, where they will end up next. She actually shrieks when the darkness begins an attempt to push a finger inside her, her panic making things worse, making Emma forget how to breathe. 

Her chest heaves, her face turns an unseemly red. The darkness still finds her beautiful, irresistible, and presses against her. Inhales a scent made all the sweeter by her fear, the darkness begins purring into Emma's neck, kissing and licking and biting the skin there. 

Emma is pushing at the darkness, but it will not be budged. It settles against her, aroused and growing more so, the longer it plays with her body. The few times she remembers to breathe only make Emma dizzy, leaving her to close her eyes against the spinning sights around them. 

"Well...." Says an amused voice. "What do we have here..." 

Her eyes snap open at the voice, at the sheer surprise of the unexpected interruption. It's no saving angel that's come to pay visit, Emma staring in surprise at the woman in the crisp, light gray business suit. Regina Mills is the last person Emma Swan expects to feel happy to see, and yet in the moment, she could almost kiss her because the blonde is certain even Regina can't be so evil as to allow the darkness to have it's way in this manner. 

The sound of heels on the pavement draw Emma's attention away from Regina. She sees Cora, the woman dressed in a navy blue business suit. The woman is patting her red hair, looking completely unconcerned with what is being done before her eyes. And Emma then realizes that they've in no way come to save her, might actually intend to stand and watch. Emma's hope shatters, as she realizes that good doesn't always win the day... 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...


	4. Four

Things haven't been going exactly the way Regina Mills would have hoped, her happy ever after still lingering out of reach. Still taunting her with it's promise, with the hope that everything will become perfect if Regina just does what is needed, and make a sacrifice of everything that everyone else has ever wanted, and has ever had. It's not a decision Regina makes lightly, not when she has had years of bitter disappointments, of heart break and despair. Resentment has taken root inside her, nearly blinded her to what is right. Regina wants her happy ending, and she's almost not above using Emma Swan to get it. 

And so Regina tries to ignore the guilty pangs in her stomach, pretends to not care that she has stumbled upon Emma Swan being violated. Tries to act as unconcerned as Cora truly is, when all the while her head is screaming that it's wrong. For all the heartless things Regina has done, all the lives ruined, the people that have died, the queen has never felt so evil then as at the moment she meets Emma Swan's frantic eyes, and sees the hope there spark and then die. 

Revenge suddenly doesn't feel quite so sweet, leaving Regina to wonder if anything is worth the sick feeling that's now festering inside her. Wondering if even Henry's unconditional love will be enough to make her forget what she has done, Regina feels regret of a different kind. Such a strange, foreign feeling, Regina looking past her own pain and sorrows, and realizing she's probably, finally gone too far. 

There's a hitch to Regina's breath, one she can't quite hide to feign amused indifference. She's finally realized that her revenge is costing her EVERYTHING, including her son's love, and there is nothing Regina can do to change that. Nothing because she's finally done the one thing that's gone irrevocably too far. Her son has a forgiving nature, but even Henry won't be able to overlook this rape and violation. 

Choking on air that tastes foul, Regina opens her mouth and knows her sorry won't be good enough. So she does the only thing she can think of, the only thing she knows to fall back on. She raises an arm, and makes a fist. Feels as well as sees the purple colored energy crackle around it, gathering strength and form. Her regrets and disappointments, her shame and even her anger at herself, give power to the magic. It's one hell of a spell Regina throws at the darkness, and it's still not enough to do more than surface damage. 

And yet the darkness roars, actually drops hold of Emma, who collapses to the ground. The blonde haired savior just lays there, a small crumpled form that's trying hard to not get noticed. Once Regina thought she would have loved to see Emma brought so low, but even that is no longer true, and that fuels the second surge of power Regina needs for her attack. 

The spell hits the darkness directly on the chest. The tanned skin discolors briefly, first the dark black and blue of a bruise freshly made, and then the more repugnant browns and yellows of a hurt that is older, but already healing. If the darkness had been mortal, had not had it's ancient, evil magic as backing, Hook's body would have been destroyed. But now existing as he is, the pirate's body remains intact, with not even a single imperfect speck to mark the damage the spell had briefly done. 

The darkness looks at Regina, and though it's been a mistake, it's one she repeats gladly. She flings her third ball of energy at the monster, scowls in the face of her fear, and does her best to keep from shaking in her expensive pump shoes. 

The darkness moves, and it is with a speed unmatched by anything mortal. One blink of the eyes, and then it is there, it's hand around Regina's throat, lifting her up off the ground. Regina can't focus to call on her magic, can only claw at the darkness' arm. She's gasping for air, and then her mother snaps out a command. 

"STOP!" 

The Dark One freezes exactly as Cora asks. It doesn't relax it's hand, keeps the grip at just the right pressure, neither crushing nor releasing, and still Regina is going to choke to death if something isn't done and soon. 

"Release her." Cora's voice is calm, the woman seeming unaffected by what is happening to her daughter. "Gently." The caution comes a moment too late, the darkness abruptly relaxing it's hand, letting Regina drop to the ground. She sputters and gasps, her face turning red. 

"Get up Regina." An unconcerned Cora commands. Regina has to try twice before she can manage to stand. She's wheezing as she does this, her throat sore, her neck bruised. "Honestly." Cora's heels click on the pavement, the woman approaching both her daughter and the Dark One. 

"I know you're impatient for results..." Cora continues, looking at her daughter. "But antagonizing him is not going to get you Henry any sooner." 

Regina looks at her mother, and realizes the woman is truly without heart. Cora doesn't see anything wrong with what they have witnessed, with the rape they have come across. Cora doesn't seem to even think of Emma Swan, like the woman is just a bug the redhead has already swatted away. 

"Henry is gone." Is what Regina croaks out loud. "He's lost to us...." 

"Maybe, maybe not." Cora counters. She's holding the dagger, the enchanted blade never far from her hands. It's the one thing that gives her power over the darkness, the only thing that is keeping it from killing indiscriminately. Most certainly, the dagger is the only thing standing in the way of the darkness killing Cora and her daughter, a desire the creature makes no attempt to hide. Regina looks into the murderous slant of it's eyes, and knows the darkness is very, very angry, and all but out of patience. 

"What do you want?" The words are ground out like gravel, the darkness speaking with a furious growl. Regina shivers to hear it, but Cora doesn't so much as blink in reaction. 

"Ah ah ah." She says out loud. She taps blood red fingernails on the flat of the dagger's blade, striking the name carved into the metal. The darkness narrows it's eyes at her, feigns indifference to the blade that controls and makes a slave of it. "We will be the ones asking the questions." 

The darkness hisses, a sound Regina realizes is it's attempt at hiding it's irritation. Cora smiles in understanding, a second before she is pulling back her hand, striking it and her magic across the darkness' cheek. 

"Why isn't she dead?" Cora asks, and her smile is no longer anything Regina wants to see. "Why haven't you killed her already?" She's gestured with the dagger, actually pointed it at the prone figure that is Emma Swan. 

The darkness's expression is something horrific, Hook's features twisting in a nightmarish way. With one look, Regina knows her mother is a dead woman, walking around on borrowed time. It doesn't matter that she holds the blade, that Cora has made a slave of the darkness. It's merely waiting, patient for it's chance. Biding it's time, knowing that it WILL come, and already reveling in the fact. 

"Answer me!" snaps Cora, her own anger distorting her expression. 

"Mother perhaps..." Regina begins, and her own voice sounds small and uncertain. She's not even acknowledged, both the queen and the darkness locked in their own private battle, wills tested, anger strengthened. 

The air seems to crackle between them, magic sparking off both powerful beings. Cora's eyes narrow, her lips pursed together as though she has tasted something horrible. "You're not..." She begins to say, and then brings a hand to her face. "Oh yes, you are!" She actually laughs, Cora delighting in her realization. "Oh you stupid fool. Trying to fight against the dagger, against your master's will!" 

Regina's eyes widened, and she takes a cautious step back. She feels the darkness slither it's gaze in her direction, then snap it back to Cora who is not only still laughing, but actually stepping closer to the Dark One. 

"You have to realize how futile this is." Cora says. "How utterly pointless it is to try and resist so long as I have control of the dagger." She's actively taunting the darkness, actually tapping the dagger's tip against the side of the Dark One's cheek. Regina stand frozen, watches as the darkness' jaw clenches. 

"With this dagger even the darkness is my slave." Cora continues. "And there's not a damn thing anyone can do..." 

Her gloating is interrupted by a growl, the darkness making a grab for the dagger. Cora reacts without thinking, slashing open the palm of that reaching hand. An arc of blood follows that, the blood splattering on the front of Cora's navy blue suit. The darkness howls, actually draws it's still bleeding hand close to it's chest. 

Even Cora is stunned by the close call, her mouth hanging open as she watches the darkness voice it's pain. The wound is slow to heal, more of the darkness' blood splattering to the ground. Cora looks at the blood, then looks at the dagger, and actually appears shaken. She doesn't try to speak, not until she's retreated a safe distance. 

"Were you trying to get me to kill you?!" Her eyes narrow. "After all I've done for you?!" 

"Done for me?!" snarls the darkness. "What exactly have you done for me?!" 

"I freed you from Rumplestiltskin for one." Cora retorts. "And I even went so far as to hand pick you out a nice new vessel. One with a mind and will far easier to subdue. Though I'm beginning to wonder if Hook's stupidity hasn't begun to affect you." 

"No matter." She continues, ignoring the darkness' incensed growling. "Stupid or not, even you can't mess up this command. See that girl over there....you're going to kill her, as painfully, as slowly, as..." 

"Mother, stop!" Regina snaps. She's moved in reach of Cora, actually made a grab at the woman's arm. The surprised look Cora gives her, soon turns suspicious, the woman staring at her daughter with narrowed eyes. 

"I'm sorry, you want me to what?" Cora demands. The look she is giving Regina, makes the dark haired woman feel as though she is still a small child, uncertain and powerless. 

"I...." 

"You didn't actually tell me to stop." Cora continues over her. "Regina, there's simply no room for compassion this late in the game. That girl is our enemy, she's kept your son from you. She HAS to die." 

"I know that!" Her voice snaps with agitation, Regina's mind thinking frantic thoughts, questing for some plausible reason why Emma Swan should not be killed. "But...but if we want to find Henry..." 

Cora's look is one of impatience, the woman too close to dismissing her daughter completely. Regina stiffens her spine, draws breath into her body, and lies. "You know Snow and her prince have gone to ground, most likely taking Henry with them. There hasn't been a clue, any leads, no chance of discovering their whereabouts until now. Miss Swan might very well be the key to finding them, to reuniting us with my son. It would be foolish to waste the opportunity that she gives us." 

Regina almost thinks she's tried too hard, that her mother isn't going to take the bait. It takes every bit of will for Regina not to hold her breath and appear too eager, as she waits for her mother to make a decision. 

Nodding ever so slowly, Cora casts a look towards where Emma Swan is. The blonde haired savior has heard what Regina has said, has heard and reacted enough to push herself upright. She's no longer trying to be unnoticed, her look downright defiant as she glares at the queens. 

"Why yes..." Cora says, turning her attention back to Regina. "Why yes, you are right. If anyone might know where they've hidden Henry, it would be her." The gleam in her eyes is crafty, Cora fingering the sharp end of the dagger. 

"Of course....." Regina quickly speaks, hoping to interrupt whatever wicked command her heartless mother had been about to voice. 'She might not actually know." 

"Then we determine what she DOES know, and dispose of her after." 

"We could do that." Regina agrees slowly. "But then there's also the chance Snow and Charming will try to rescue her. You know how they are, how they'd do just about anything for their daughter." 

"But would they really give up their grandson to save their daughter.." Cora wondered out loud. 

"It's not much of a choice we'll give them." Regina retorted. "And of course, we'll have the Dark One searching as well." She nerved herself to look at the darkness, actually meets it's glowering glare "We might as well get SOME use out of your new slave." 

Cora actually smirks at that, the look in her eyes approving. It's a look that once Regina would have killed to see, and now it means nothing to her, because she simply doesn't want to be anything that her mother could be so proud of. 

"And if the Dark One should find them first...." 

"We can't have it traumatizing Henry." Regina interrupted, her tone firm. 

"Oh it's nothing a memory altercating spell won't be able to fix." Cora's words chilled Regina, who began shaking her head no. 

"I won't use magic on Henry." Regina insisted. "And I won't have him hating me for the murder of his grandparents." 

"You won't have his love either." Cora was quick to point out. "Not even if you spare them." 

Regina manages what she hopes is an evil smile. "Who said anything about sparing them? Not when the knowledge of what is happening to their friends, their family, to the people of this town they swore to protect, will hurt them a lot worse and for far longer then killing ever could." 

"And what about Henry?" Cora demands. 

"I am his mother." Regina answers, still smiling. "He will HAVE to love me." She's smiling on the outside, but inside she is crying. Because Regina knows she has lost Henry, that nothing she ever says or does will ever fix things in his eyes. But she wants to try, wants to do the right thing at long last, in an attempt to make up for her many sins, so that maybe in some future life, Regina will have a real chance at obtaining love and the happy ever after she so craves. 

It's not going to happen in this life, Regina's simply too much the evil queen. She's one of the villains of this story, and it doesn't matter that her intentions had been done with a pure goal in mind. The love of a young boy, the love of any one, doesn't justify the hurts and manipulations, the deceit and destruction Regina and her mother have done. 

And yet it doesn't stop Regina from wishing it could be otherwise. From wishing she could somehow truly fix things, and not just selfishly for herself. She looks towards Emma Swan, meets the blonde's angry, accusing stare, and Regina knows there's not enough she can do fast enough, to save Emma from the coming darkness. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued...


	5. Five

There is a moment when Emma almost forgets her own pain. A moment when anger rules her, Emma rising up off the ground. The pain that then staggers her, is an unfortunate, unwanted, and above all potent reminder. She does her best not to cry out, her lips sealed tight against even the slightest of whimpers. But her body concedes to the pain, Emma falling against her car, actually needing it's support at her back to remain upright. 

That pain, as weak as it makes her feel, also adds fire to her anger. Emma HATES feeling this way, despises being rendered so helpless. Emma fears it too, but at the moment, she is doing her very best to ignore that frightened feeling, to pretend she is not battered and weakened, and up alone against three very evil and powerful beings. 

And so she stands taller, ignores the fact that she needs help, that her legs are shaking uncontrollably. Emma pulls herself together, the anger in her eyes, the defiance that seems to spark off of her, giving the blonde a presence. Emma not only makes herself feel every inch of proud determination, she LOOKS it. 

That focus, that control, that sheer will to ignore the odds against her, powers Emma's glare. She practically sneers at the two women across the street, the pair among the evilest of bitches Emma has ever had the misfortune to know. 

Of course their evil paled in comparison to the creature besides them. To the ancient, otherworldly being that was man's every twisted desire and malice made real. The darkness was made worse because it had taken a tangible form, had forced itself into what was only the latest in a string of bodies that numbered among the countless. 

The darkness wore Hook's body like it was a fine suit, it's otherworldly essence actually changing the pirate. Making him into something more. Already a very handsome man, now with the darkness inside him? Hook was devastating. With subtle but potent changes, the glamour done, Hook's face became dark seductive beauty taken to the extremes, the kind that would pull the unsuspecting to it. Like a siren, that beauty would lure many a maiden and even some men to it. And just like those sirens of myth, it wouldn't be love and light the darkness delivered, but pain and tears, and the ruin of all one held dear. 

Even knowing this, even being burnt by the darkness first hand, Emma still has to fight against believing in it's lies. Actually fight against being deceived by that beauty, by the mockery it has made of Hook's face. Emma knows first hand what that beauty hides, what the darkness is capable of, and how it hadn't stopped in time. Her body is the actual proof of the kind of care and treatment a woman could expect at the darkness' hands. Emma knows without a doubt that the Dark One, so evil, so selfish, is dangerous, deadly and above all insatiable. 

It is also an evil that is fixated on HER. Emma doesn't understand why or how that particular bit of insanity came to be, and right now she doesn't care. She'll shove aside her questions, try to bury her fear and her pain, let them all be burned by her anger, and swallowed up by her more pressing concerns. 

"Stay the hell away from my family." 

Emma's voice is strong, not betraying any of the weak or the hopeless feelings inside her. She lets not only her concern show, but allows the powerful, driving need to safeguard her family, morph her into something stronger. Something--someone who can't acknowledge the pain, who will fight tooth and nail to protect those that matter most. Henry is chief in her thoughts, but so are Mary Margaret and David, the parents she had never known, the family she was still trying to learn. Emma wants to save them, doesn't want Regina or Cora, and especially not the darkness to go near them. She's not giving a damn about herself in the moment, not thinking, not caring that she might be making her situation WORSE. 

All three have turned towards her, looking for the world like they have been reminded that she is something more than just the darkness' victim. And suddenly Emma feels very small, reminded that she is up against three beings who are strong in magic and united against her. Alone and without a gun or a sword, Emma wonders if it would have been better to remain on the ground, to remain weak, and defeated in their eyes. 

But Emma doesn't want to be their tool, doesn't want to be used to help them in any way. She'd rather die than let Cora and Regina use her as bait, and Emma would be damned before letting them go after her family without so much as a peep from her. Not that her heated demand has had much effect on the three. Not with Cora looking so amused, the woman who was so dismissive of Emma on her best days, now hardly concerned by her defiance on what is her worst. 

It's clear that Cora is not even registering Emma as a threat now, might actually be toying with her, when she speaks. "You're hardly in a position to make demands." She actually smirks at Emma, her gaze no less cruel than her words. "What do you possibly think you can do to stop us in your present condition?" 

And there is the rub, Emma recoiling at the truth that question mocks her with. Because what can she do, with a body that is shaking, without a sword or a gun in her hands, and with magic inside her that Emma is incapable of accessing, let alone using. The fact that Emma knows and recognizes those facts, doesn't make her circumstances any easier to swallow. Nor she can she tolerate the mocking titter of laughter that Cora lets out. 

"It's time to accept facts, my dear." Cora says. "As you are now, you can't even protect yourself. The smartest thing you could do, is to keep quiet and speak only when asked, but then...you've never struck me as a particular bright girl." 

"I'm smart enough to know that with all you are doing, Henry will NEVER forgive you." Emma looks directly at Regina when she says this. The raven haired woman seems to almost flinch, the expression in her eyes some heavy emotion that shows Regina knows Emma is right. "Henry will never love you Regina, you have to know that. Not after what you've done, what you let happen...." 

"Henry is a young boy." Cora interrupts smoothly. "And young minds are ever so malleable. He may resist at first, but eventually...he will come to see that his mother and I were acting in his best interests." 

"You're insane." Emma states. "And delusional if you think Henry is going to overlook the ruin of his family, his REAL family, without you messing up his mind with magic." Her eyes are still on Regina, whose gaze is shifting, the woman unable to truly look at Emma. "Is that the plan Regina? Are you going to mind fuck my son?" 

"I'm not going to use any magic on Henry!" Regina immediately protests. 

"Is that what you think, or is that only going to last as long as your patience?" Emma demanded. 

"I..." 

"How long Regina?!" Emma cut in on the woman's stammering attempt at speaking. "How long before you're exactly like, no, worst than your mother?" 

"ENOUGH!" Cora snaps out. "The only words I want to hear from you are the ones that reveal just where Snow and the others have taken Henry." 

"IF they're smart, they'll have already crossed the boundary." Emma manages a smirk, hiding the pain she feels at the thought of David and Mary Margaret forgetting all about her. "You're welcome to follow them....at the cost of your magic and your memories..." And then she is crying out, but no sound is escaping her for the magic Cora hits Emma with, steals her very voice. 

There is pain along with the theft, a burning in her throat that distracts Emma from her anger. She's sagging in place against the car, actually starting to slide down it to her knees when the darkness appears before her. Everything in her recoils at it's nearness, Emma lashing out with her arms, the rising hysteria inside her noting that her one hand is still bleeding and covered with splinters of glass shards. 

The darkness endures, but it's patience is mixed with the rough way it handles her. Actually hauling her up right, pinning her in place with it's body, it's not support or true concern the darkness offers her. Emma's not even sure what it is this creature wants, what game it is playing now. She's not sure she even CARES, Emma too blinded with panic to stop fighting and analyze the Dark One's actions. Even when it's fingers close painfully around her injured hand, even when Emma shrieks a silent protest, she continues to fight. 

And yet the cold metal of the hook at her throat, gets to her the way no other can. Emma actually freezes, actually allows her terrified eyes to truly look into the darkness' stolen face. The Dark One is frowning, it's gaze narrowed as it strokes the sharp tip of the hook over her skin. Emma doesn't fail to notice it is caressing exactly where the spell burns the most, and that it's being careful not to split open her skin. 

It doesn't bypass Cora's notice either, the woman speaking in calm tones. "It's nothing more than a simple spell to shut her up. Harmless...for the most part." 

Emma sees the reaction of the darkness, sees the way anger fills it's eyes. The glower it wears, is worse than any look it had previously given Cora and Regina, and that is before the vicious snarl of words erupt out of the Dark One. 

"You play with what is NOT yours to have." 

Even terrified, Emma reacts, bristling with anger, with an empathic protest. She tries to speak the words, to tell the darkness she is most definitely not it's, but Emma can't voice even a squeak of sound. Furious but frightened of what the darkness implies, Emma can only stand there and glare. 

"Come now." Cora says over Emma's attempts to speak. "It's not as if you need her voice to do the things you want to do to her." 

Already upset, Emma is not at all reassured by the words that rumble out of the darkness. "I enjoy hearing the sounds that she makes." 

"Well then see if you can get her to sing a more pleasing tune." Cora retorts, a snap of her fingers releasing the spell inside Emma's throat. "Something along the lines of telling us where her family is hidden." 

Emma wants to be brave. She wants to believe she won't crack, that she won't betray her own family. But the darkness SCARES her, and she is terrified of what it wants, of what it may try to do next. Emma would prefer to be cut up and tortured, rather than be kissed, would actually tremble less if that hook was doing anything else besides caressing over the front of her borrowed shirt. 

The darkness is smiling at her, it's arm tensing to rip open her shirt. Emma can't find it in her to scream, or to tell it what Cora wants to know. She tells herself she is being brave, but really Emma has frozen up, unable to do anything but stand there and shake. It's too soon, and Emma still hurts. She doesn't at all want to think how much more painful it will be, how much more damaged she'll become. 

Emma's shaking her head no, trying to whimper and even that is beyond her. The darkness is making a low sound, purring at her, but it's anything but soothing to Emma. She stares into it's eyes, tries to find a shred of Hook inside it, but sees only that alien, other worldly being. Some creature who doesn't understand right from wrong, about choices, or about being nice. 

When the scream starts, Emma thinks it is her voice that is doing it. But it's not. It is Regina, the woman grabbing at her mother's arm. She looks angry as she screams, telling her mother to stop this right now. 

"It's too late to develop a conscience, Regina!" Cora snaps. 

"I'm not, I swear it!" Regina screams back. "But this is going too far!" 

"I didn't raise you to be so weak as to not be able to stomach a little torture!" Cora's own voice was raising, the mother daughter drama background noise to the darkness' own actions. The shirt began to rip, but slowly, the darkness trying to build up anticipation but instead heightening Emma's fear and revulsion. 

"It's not a matter of what I can and can't stomach!" Regina shouted. "Why are you rewarding it? A slave who has done nothing that we asked it for. The Dark One shouldn't be allowed to have anymore of it's fun, until after it finds us Henry!" 

Those words brought the hysteria to Emma, laughter bubbling up inside her. She couldn't believe it, found it obscene that Regina was arguing not about stopping the rape that was about to happen, but merely objecting to the timing of it. It was surreal, and only fortified Emma's belief that Regina was evil. 

Cora and Regina's voices seemed to fade into the background, mere whispers that couldn't drown out the sound of Emma's shirt ripping. The buttons that popped, thumped like a drum beat against the pavement. The darkness' smile was all she could truly see, her awareness of the creature inhabiting Hook's body, taking over everything. Blocking out the sights and sounds, the feel of everything but the darkness and it's touch. Leaving Emma reeling, her vision swimming, and then the darkness was screaming, it's voice an infuriated, unnatural roar. 

"Oh do stop the nonsense." Cora was speaking, but it was as though Emma had gone deaf. She could only hear the darkness, taste the rage flowing off it in waves. "You'll have your chance to play later. AFTER you find Henry and his grandparents." 

Already so angry, it turned from Emma. Gave the full focus of it's incensed glare to the red haired Queen that was brandishing it's dagger. There weren't enough words in the human language to describe the extent of it's malevolent rage, the pure, unbridled fury it directed towards Cora. 

"Careful now." Cora warned, the woman hardly amused by the darkness' anger. Neither did she seem frightened or intimidated, the woman barely reacting to being the focus of such a temper. "Your tantrums will only get you punished, rather than rewarded." 

It's anger didn't simmer, words hissing out of the darkness. "You try what's left of my patience, witch." 

"And you have run through the last of mine!" Cora snapped back in retort. "Go now! Find Snow White, her prince, and the boy. Bring them all to me. I don't care how you do it, but take care with the child. He is not to be harmed in any way." 

The darkness didn't immediately leap to do Cora's bidding, growling at her one last time. When it takes a step forward, Emma loses that which was supporting her upright, watching as the darkness then disappeared into the shadows. As Emma started to slide down the side of the car, she tried to instead lunge forward. Shouting in protest, reaching for the darkness that was already gone, the woman landed on her knees. Even without understanding what exactly had been said, Emma KNEW. She knew without fail that the darkness had been sent after her family, and just as certain, Emma knew they really stood no chance against fighting off that evil. 

Sagging in place, Emma knelt on the pavement. Her hands made fists in her lap, and she shook uncontrollably. Slowly sound came back to her, Emma hearing Regina speaking quietly to Cora. 

"You're treating the Dark One like it's no better than a dog." Regina was saying. "And using Miss Swan as the treat to train it with." 

"Considering what it is, there's not much else we can use in order to bring it to heel." Cora retorted, then actually complained. "The darkness is more willful than I expected. I don't like that....it's being too defiant." 

"That defiance is going to get you killed mother." Regina retorted. "The darkness is too dangerous for any one to truly use. It would be best if we rid ourselves of it..." 

"Put that thought out of your mind at once daughter!" Cora hissed. "The darkness is ultimate power. If Rumplestiltskin could control it, so can I!" 

"It took Rumplestiltskin years to learn how!" Regina pointed out. "Who knows how much it cost him in the process!" 

"Rumplestiltskin didn't have Emma Swan. With her we can..." 

"You'll do nothing." Emma said, then snapped it out louder. "Nothing you hear me! I will not be your pawn!" With a strength that was surprising even to her own self, Emma lunged upright, intent on Cora. She wasn't truly intending to punch the red haired queen, though that would have been a satisfying bonus. Instead Emma had made a desperate decision. A desperate, dangerous, deadly one, the blonde haired woman having decided it was better to die than continue to be used. 

Emma Swan lurched towards Cora as fast as she could with her fists swinging. Expecting Cora to lash out, to strike her down without thinking, Emma wasn't expecting Regina to catch hold of her when she stumbled halfway across the street. 

"Let me go!" Emma screamed, furious at being thwarted. 

"You really don't learn, do you Miss Swan?" Cora asked, as Emma struggled weakly in Regina's hold. "Nothing you do now matters....your fate is MINE to decide." She reached out, those fingers tipped with blood red nails gripping firm hold of Emma's chin. "But I'll tell you what. Tell me where Henry has been hidden, and I will grant you a mercy." 

"A mercy?" 

 

Yes." Cora gave a bone chilling smile. "You want to die, don't you? Rather than be given to that thing in Hook's body. Well I will arrange it. I'll even make your death a quick one." 

"And all I have to do is betray Henry and my parents to you..." Emma whispered, then actually spit in Cora's face. "To hell with that and with you!" 

The slap was immediate, Cora giving into her anger. "You stupid girl! I offered you mercy! And instead of thanking me, you do this? Ooooh! You're going to pay for this....pay for it in spades..." 

"Mother, just remember you---we need her." Regina's voice sounded odd, as though it was strained with emotion. "If we want to stand any chance of controlling the darkness...." 

"Oh don't worry, Regina darling. I wasn't going to do anything....permanent." Cora gestured with her arm, a thick choking smoke surrounding all three of the women. Emma shifted against Regina, actually struggled in her hold. But the smoke was everywhere, and Regina was exerting her full strength to hold onto Emma's weakened form. 

When the smoke finally did clear, Emma was red faced and coughing. She looked and found they had been transported. It was to Regina's office, the mayor's seat of power, in Storybrooke's main government building. Regina didn't relax her hold on Emma, but she actually shifted them slightly, so that the blonde wasn't trapped between the two queens. 

"Now...where were we?" Cora asked, a vindictive look in her eyes, as she fingered the dagger. 

"Mother, let me." Regina spoke up. "I've got nearly two years of resentments against Miss Swan to work out." 

Cora actually looked proud. "And just when I worried you had gone soft on me. Very well Regina, have your fun. I will go make sure everything is ready for the....guests...the Dark One will bring us." 

"All right mother." Agreed Regina. the tremble in her arms so slight, Emma wondered if she had imagined it. Emma tensed all the same, bracing herself for what she expected would be violent, only to find herself being lowered gently to the floor by Regina. Her brow furrowed, a frowning Emma Swan turning to look up at Regina. 

"You look like hell, Miss Swan." Regina commented in a matter of fact tone. But she wasn't gloating, wasn't so much as smiling about it. 

"Gee I wonder whose fault THAT is." Emma bit out with real anger. She was surprised when Regina visibly flinched, the woman closing her eyes for a brief moment. She seemed to be focusing on her breathing, though for what reason Emma couldn't guess. And then Regina did something astonishing, the woman opening her eyes, and lowering herself down to crouch in front of Emma. 

"I know it won't be worth much..." Regina said, her strong voice holding an unsteady note of raw emotion to it. "But I am sorry." 

Emma could only stare at her wide eyed, Regina's look one of bitterness. "This is NOT how I wanted to win." The raven haired woman confessed. "It's going too far, even for me..." Her hands glowed, a softer purple magic sparking around them. Though Emma could sense this wasn't a destructive spell, she still stiffened and tried to scoot backwards. But she couldn't avoid Regina's hands, the woman running them over Emma, ghosting them over every part of her, actually HEALING the damage that had been done. 

That included her hand, the glass shards gone, the bleeding now stopped. Emma felt her strength returning as the pain receded then went away completely. But she didn't give into shock, saving it for a time when---IF they all survived the darkness and Cora's plans. Instead, with her strength back, her body revitalized and healed, Emma launched herself fist first at Regina. 

There was a satisfying crack of sound as her fist hit Regina in the face. The dark haired queen fell over backwards with a muffled cry, Emma riding her body downwards. She ended up straddling Regina's chest, preparing to strike her again when Regina lashed out with her magic. 

With a scream that was born of her fury, Emma was tossed off and away from Regina. She was slammed into a wall, felt that invisible force hold her in place. Regina was still on the floor, hand to her mouth. When she lowered it, Emma saw that Regina's lower lip had split and was bleeding. 

"Okay...I deserved that." Regina muttered, clearly trying to keep her temper under control. 

"You deserve to rot!" Emma spat out, trying to resist the impulse to struggle against the unseen force that was pinning her in place. "You and Cora for all you've done!" She was glaring, almost snarling out the words. "How could you even consider unleashing such a creature on Storybrooke? Why would you ever allow that monster to run free, to put it anywhere near Henry?! How could you let it..." 

"I didn't know!" Regina screamed over her. Emma gasped, then laughed. A bitter mocking sound that showed just how little she trusted Regina's claims. "I didn't know it would be quite that evil, that it would be this out of control, that it would do such things." 

"How could you NOT know?!" demanded Emma. "What did you think would happen, if you unleashed the darkness?!" 

"It was only supposed to kill you...." 

"Oh only." Emma scoffed, then spat. "And I'm supposed to believe your sensibilities were offended by what it did instead?!" Regina was silent, but even if she had tried to say anything, Emma would have talked over her. "Face it Miss Mayor, you're only having second thoughts, because you realized you can't control it. Or....or maybe you think by playing the regret card, it will somehow win you Henry's love. Well that ship has sailed. He will never forgive you, OR love you. And all the magic in the world won't change that what you do get from him, you have to take by force and manipulate his mind for!" 

"You're wrong." Regina said, in a voice that was keeping tight reign on her true feelings. "This is not some last desperate grab to win Henry's love. I've finally seen that revenge can only take me so far, that it is costing me more than it gives me! I KNOW I have gone too far, that I have lost Henry for good, and I am sorry." 

"Then help me." Emma hissed. "Help me to save him AND my parents!" 

"I..I'm sorry..." 

"Stop with your sorries, and actually do something to help us!" Emma snarled, struggling harder against the invisible force. 

"I'm doing the best that I can." Regina retorted, wringing her hands together in agitation. "I'll try to stop my mother AND the darkness....but it's going to take time." 

"We're already out of time!" 

"I know, and I am sorry. I won't be able to stop what is happening any time soon. Not unless I get lucky..." Regina looked away at Emma's frustrated shout. "I'm going to do what I can for Snow and Charming. To keep them alive until I can act. But..." 

"Where does that leave me?" demanded Emma, her heated tone a striking contrast to the cold seeping through her. "Regina...?" But the queen wouldn't meet her eyes, was shrugging her shoulders as though it was too awful a thing to voice an answer to. Emma went mad, fought hard against the invisible force that was holding her down, her snarling screams protests that weren't going to change a thing. Weren't going to stop her from being swallowed up the darkness once more. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....


	6. Six

Killian Jones, the man who is also known as Captain Hook, has been swallowed up by the darkness. Buried deep in it's shadows, he's been shoved to some forgotten recess of his own body. Left to flounder surrounded by thick, choking pools of inky darkness, Killian Jones can only scream. Can only lay there, blinded by the dark, his screaming voice silent, his air cut off, Killian doesn't even know up from down. 

He's been cut off from his own body so that nothing can get through to him. No sound, no sight, no way to feel, Killian Jones is cold, actually freezing from the lack of it. From the complete shutting down of his senses. Killian can't even feel pain, his existence narrowed down to the darkness he is drowning in. 

He chokes and he thrashes about, but there is no escaping the darkness. Not even death can reach him this deep within, Killian Jones doesn't even dare hope for a miracle. Doesn't try to pray. He's not even sure he wants to be saved, might even think he deserves the darkness, given all Killian's done. 

He doesn't exactly feel guilt for killing Rumplestiltskin. Or for hunting relentlessly after revenge year after year. Killian's been a broken, bitter man, his life ruined by the love he has lost. The love stolen, actually murdered before him. That lost love has been the defining moment for him, the moment Killian Jones had abandoned his name, had turned his back on everything including life. It was that moment, when Rumplestiltskin had crushed Milah's heart, that Killian Jones had given up on happily ever after and had decided to die. 

For all the years Captain Hook has been around, Killian Jones has been waiting. Searching for a way, desperate to get one over on Rumplestiltskin, to deal some final crippling blow on the monster that would finally satisfy him enough so that Killian Jones could lay down and die. He's literally spent hundreds of years waiting for that chance, questing for power, for artifacts, for a weapon. Reaching for a revenge that seemed forever out of reach, Killian has used and hurt many in the process. 

He can't even remember all the people that he's hurt. Their faces tend to blur together, time making him forget their names. They've just been stepping stones on the way to his revenge, and Killian has preferred it that way, actively distancing himself from any chance of a relationship. Avoiding making friends, having lovers, even enemies, Killian Jones has only seen other people as tools to be manipulated and used. 

It is one of the great ironies of his life, that the same thing has been done to him. He's been used, tricked, lied to and manipulated, and it hasn't all been done by Cora alone. There's been Cora's daughter Regina, and even the Swan woman, though that last one he can't truly fault her for the mistrust she has shown him. Killian HAD been using her, had been using them all, playing the women against each other, ready to throw down with whoever could bring him closest to enacting his revenge. 

And yet with the Swan woman, with Emma, Killian feels a remorse. He actually wishes there could have been another way, that they hadn't been so busy one upping each other with betrayals. Killian has found himself wanting things he has no business wanting, desiring Emma, actually feeling hope skirting the edges of his conscience. To a man who has turned his back on actually living, the feelings Emma Swan rouses in Killian are disturbing at the very least. 

Especially when he's sure he can't have her. Not in any permanent way. Emma Swan is too good for him, too bright a light, her brilliance would only burn him up, bring forth to light the dirty stains of his soul. Killian Jones doesn't deserve her, and for that alone he's too scared to try for the happily ever after that she makes him want. 

That fear doesn't stop him from wanting Emma any less. He's wanted to reach out and touch that brilliance, not caring if he dirties it in the process. The pirate in him is greedy, and would drag Emma down to his level, if that is what it took to have her. There is darkness in Killian Jones that has nothing to do with the evil entity that has taken over his body. Greedy lustful desires, a driving desperation Killian has fought against. Some part of him has wanted to ruin Emma Swan, to punish her for making him want things, the want to live, to love, to be happy, and above all to forget the woman that is the cause of so much pain. 

Killian has had a hard time accepting the idea of moving on. On moving past Milah, and the hurts the loss of her has caused. Killian has felt guilt, has felt shame, has actually worried that what he wants from Emma is a betrayal of everything he had promised to another. To the vows he had made to Milah, both when she was alive, and after she had died. Killian knows he is damaged, that the loss of Milah has left him confused, hurting, and frightened. Actively balking against reaching for a healing hand, Killian has only made things worse for himself in trying to deny the attraction that he feels for Emma Swan. 

Not ready to be healed, nor comforted, Killian had assumed the distance he kept Emma at, would leave them both safe. He had never expected her to make the first move, to actively try to seduce him. It left him completely unprepared, when in a moment of sheer desperation, Emma had done exactly that. And once she had laid her hands on him, had actually invited him to take her, Killian hadn't been able to truly resist. 

Of course he had TRIED. With the darkness slithering around inside him, feeding off his wants and desires, Killian had attempted to push Emma away. But his honorable intentions were murky at best, and Emma had been determined to distract the monster inside Killian. The man had given in to her lips, to the sweet caress of her hands, and at some point he had lost control completely, the darkness lunging forward to seize command of the body that they now shared. 

It had been the darkness not Killian having it's way with Emma then. It's hand on Emma's hip, it's lips covering her mouth. An ever greedy, grasping creature by nature, the darkness had seen what it had wanted, and had taken what it was never meant to have. Lured in by a touch, undone by a kiss, the darkness had been quick to make use of the passion between Killian and Emma. 

Reaping rewards it had no right to, the darkness hadn't been content to just take from Emma. Every moment stolen, the darkness hadn't wanted to share. Had actively beat back the pirate, shoving him down deeper into the body, locking him away from Emma's warmth, from all awareness. Leaving him with nothing but one fleeting moment, the second when Emma had arched back with a cry, her aroused flesh welcoming the darkness inside it. 

Locked up tight so that nothing can penetrate his prison, Killian has no concept of how much worse things have become. No idea that the darkness already so dangerously infatuated with Emma Swan, has become obsessed. No mere fleeting fancy, the darkness has found the one thing it wants to possess, the one single shining thing in this world that can drive it to madness with needs. The needs that it is incapable of understanding, because the darkness was never meant to love, is actually incapable of it and other soft emotions. 

The darkness can only hurt and use, make a mockery of human intimacy. It's all dark impulses and twisted desires, and made now a hundred times worse for it has tasted a woman. The darkness so quick to torture and kill, has found a new addiction, has found how sweetly satisfying it is between a woman's legs. It's out of control with this lust, sex a new twist on old, familiar things. The darkness has understood the lusts of men, the lust for battle, for money, for revenge. It has seen whole kingdoms destroyed by it, has known it to be a powerful thing. 

The darkness has used lust, has actually turned men's desires against them. It has seen what lust is capable of, knows just how much damage it can do. It knows how it can seduce, how it can be used to trick and manipulate others, men willing to do anything for it's promises fulfilled. 

Thinking it understands better, the lusts that drive it and men, the darkness can only purr in satisfaction as it pursues after it's own selfish bliss. It's almost blinded to the struggles of the woman beneath it, it's hand gripping her right hip. Holding her in place, the darkness is almost lazy as it fucks her. Watching with soul blackened eyes, it stares at their point of connection, watching as it's stolen body bumps their groins together. Maintaining it's aroused state, it's lips wetting as the darkness watches it's cock is being fed into Emma's Swan's body from behind. 

Already having come, more times than it can recall, the darkness toys with Emma. Makes her wait suspended between her revulsion and disgust, slowly, persistently building up need inside her, it tries to use her body against her. Every so often, Emma makes a protesting sound, constant with her attempts to jerk forward, away from the darkness' relentless wants. She tries everything and when that fails, tries to crawl away, using her hands grip on the headboard of the bed, to try and pull away from the invading darkness. 

Each time, the darkness hauls her back. Each time it makes certain to stab in deep inside her. Emma can only grit her teeth in response, trying to block the screams that build constantly within her. Her hands fist the wood of the headboard so hard that her knuckles go white in response. There's fresh blood under her nails, Emma having bit and clawed at the darkness, fighting the Dark One and it's embrace until she had exhausted all her energies, and still it had taken her. Again and again, until it's kisses left her choking, it's unwanted touch stirring the tiniest flickers of an arousal that was despised. 

What the darkness did to her, was made worse by it's attempts to make Emma enjoy it. She'd welcome pain, would actively encourage the darkness to be violent and hit her. Anything but what it does, what it tries to trick her into wanting, into accepting while wearing Hook's face and body. 

Emma doesn't remember exactly when the darkness had flipped her onto her stomach. Nor does she particularly care. It's easier to be fucked like this, to know this is a monster raping her, rather than to face it, and see Hook. Emma knows Hook is gone, that the darkness has taken root deep inside. But it's far more difficult to acknowledge, when the monster wears his face, shows her Hook's smile, and touches her with his hand. 

Emma thinks being taken from behind is somehow a slight improvement over all the darkness has done. Emma thinks she can sit and pretend, ignore that it's using against her, a body she has been attracted to. If she's fucked like an animal, treated as nothing more than outlet for some stranger's desires, then maybe the lines won't be blurred. Maybe her body won't become so confused as to feel even the slightest glimmer of pleasure at the darkness' hands. 

But the darkness isn't content to let Emma ignore it for long. Still maintaining that slow, lazy thrusting, the darkness sweeps aside her hair. With her back exposed, it presses into her from behind, Emma making a sound of discomfort at it's weight pinning her down into the mattress. Her skin crawls at the feel of the Dark One's front pressing against her so that not even an inch of space is between them. She can feel it's nipples against her, feel every hard line of it's body. Emma tries again to crawl away, and an arm goes around her, the cold metal of it's hook a shock against her fevered flesh. 

Emma is shaking by the time the Dark One starts kissing over her shoulder. Wet open mouth kisses, the darkness can't stop tasting her. Slickening her skin with it's mouth, Hook's slight beard rubbing it's short bristles over her, Emma cries out. Feels teeth nip at the nape of her neck before more kisses are delivered, lips pressed into her skin again and again in greedy worship. 

And then the darkness is growling in her ear, using Hook's voice to roar out it's pleasure. It switches out from that lazy pace, to something frantic, the darkness doing a hard pumping several times, it's cock actually lurching in warning a second before it starts emptying it's balls out inside her. 

The tension remains inside her, Emma not anywhere near the point of ultimate ecstasy. Though she feels the faintest, reluctant tingles born of what the darkness was trying to force out of her, Emma is proud she has avoided coming in it's arms. It's a small victory, one that may prove fleeting, for the darkness is only getting started. She tries to fight the hand that grips her chin, the darkness turning her face to the side. Brushing lips over her ear, then down to her cheek, the darkness is still so insatiably aroused. 

Familiar with, but never used to it, Emma groans in frustration as she feels the still hard length of him inside her start to move. The darkness moans, actually mutters her name, it's thrust picking up speed until she's being pounded into the mattress. And all the while it's kissing her, muttering wicked things into her skin, using it's arms to keep her trapped against it's body. 

Emma wonders if the darkness ever gets tired. Wonders if she will live long enough to find out. She doesn't know the darkness has gone wild answering a need it has neglected for thousands of years. All Emma does know is that the darkness is hurting her, tiring her out, and using her up. She regrets ever starting this, ever trying to manipulate Hook and distract the monster inside him from killing her with sex. Here in this bed, with the monster on top her, Emma almost wishes she had let the darkness kill her that first time instead. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....


	7. Seven

Drowning in darkness, Killian Jones can only reach out, grabbing for a life line that simply isn't there. The darkness is worse than any sea, it's blackened waters colder than any ocean. Oozing and thick, it makes movement difficult, Killian downright sluggish as he tries to run forward only to remain forever at a standstill. Sinking deeper and deeper, the darkness is like quicksand, pulling him down faster for his struggles. 

Killian Jones is already tired. Exhausted from a battle that is endless, Killian is almost ready to give up and let the darkness WIN. He's not at all sure what the outcome of his surrender would lead to, and Killian's almost too defeated to care. But he hangs on, a single sliver of memory, of worry, keeping him going, Killian fearing for Emma, for the woman who was the last sight HE had had, before the darkness had locked him down tight. 

Far too privy to the wants and desires, the blatant interest the darkness has had for Emma Swan, Killian is worried. Might even be terrified for the woman. The darkness was no gentle thing, had nearly killed Emma once already. The memory of Emma's body going limp from the choking grip the darkness had used, was burned into Killian's mind, and made all the worse because he knew just how greedy the darkness was. How it hungered for the light, for the woman whose soul shined brighter than anything it had ever seen. 

The darkness wanted to possess Emma, wanted to take everything from her. Quick to seize that which it wants, the darkness wouldn't hesitate to use Emma up then toss her aside. It's all too easy to imagine Emma broken at it's hands, the darkness not so much without moral compass, as simply not caring what was right or what was wrong. 

Killian, never a strict stickler for good over bad, knew evil when he saw it. The darkness, a being made up of everything that was ever wrong with man, was sick in thought as well as in intention. Like a disease, it's corrupt touch would poison and destroy, bring out the worst out of the very best of men. What chance did a pirate stand, a man like Hook, who had killed and tortured, had used and purposefully hurt so many? 

Yet for all he had done, Killian still balked at the evil that was the darkness. Still told himself there was a line he would not cross. Knowing it wasn't by much, Killian still insisted he was better than the darkness. Still actively fought against what it was trying to do. To himself, and to the world outside his prison, Killian battling to get free of the darkness, and powered by his concern alone. 

Killian wasn't caring much about what the darkness might do to him, so much as what it might be doing to Emma Swan. Even if he hadn't had the Dark One's thoughts briefly in his head, Killian would have feared for her. Because he KNEW what it was capable of, how far it would go with something that displeased it. Nothing, no one was safe, the darkness a jealous, possessive, Neanderthal, murderous on it's best days. 

On it's worst, it ruined lives, Killian shaking at the memory of watching Milah's heart be crushed. Rumplestiltskin eyes had been pure black, the man grinning as he watched the woman collapse into a crumpled heap on the deck of the Jolly Roger. Killian hadn't understood then, but now he knew. KNEW that it hadn't entirely been Rumplestiltskin, but a man possessed by the ultimate in monsters. 

Trapped as Killian now was, Rumplestiltskin hadn't been able to truly control the darkness. Might have even given in to it's temptations time and time again, especially when he was displeased. But he was one step above Killian, for at least Rumplestiltskin had managed to coexist with the darkness for a time. Killian didn't even have that, locked down tight in a prison of the darkness' own making. Suffering for his sins and Rumplestiltskin's misdeeds against the darkness, the Dark One wasn't about to let Killian learn how to contain it the way it's previous host had. 

And so it tried to smother him in that cold, shadow filled place. Tried to break Killian down, tried to strangle the fight out of him. Ready to leave him simply too tired to even try to fight back, the darkness worked to contain the true owner of the body it and the pirate now shared. 

For now it was succeeding, Killian blind, deaf, and mute to the world outside his prison. The darkness had sealed off his senses, but it couldn't control the pirate's thoughts, the clear cut worry that was constant. His thoughts always, always returned to Emma, and to the fears that he had for her. To the wishes that he had, those the very reason he fought so hard to gain back control. Killian wanted to reach out to Emma, to stop the darkness if he could. To spare her, to actually save her, his concern a selfless thing. 

His concern wasn't exactly the kind of thing the darkness could understand. What use was caring about another person, about their safety and well being, their feelings? The darkness doesn't understand and so it underestimates concern's power. Thinking it as weak as it has judged Killian's soul to be, the darkness is far too confidant. Downright cocksure and in no way on guard. 

The lack of attention it gives to Killian's ever growing concern, plays a huge factor in what happens next. In the sound that reaches Killian, even as he drowns in the heart of the darkness' shadows. Killian is not sure what that faint sound is, but it draws his head up. The sound doesn't immediately repeat, leaving the man to think he had imagined it. But then, there in the distance not above but to the right of him, the faintest light that pulses with the sound is seen. 

Not at all sure what is going on, Killian still reaches for the light. Still struggles to break free of the smothering darkness. It is the hardest thing he's ever yet had to do, Killian fighting for every step forward as he races towards the light. It flickers brighter every time that faint noise is heard, then dims almost dark in the following silence. It doesn't matter, he's seen what he hopes is a way out, Killian taking great lurching steps until he reaches the fading light, and falls into it. 

Killian sits up with a shout, actually feels as though he had slammed chest first into rock. Killian breathes heavily, his hoarse pants not half as sweet a sound as whatever had reached through to him in the dark. He doesn't hear it now, not over his loud rasping breaths. Killian just sits there, a bed sheet tangled around his bare legs, his skin damp and sticky, and not all of it is sweat. 

Not bothering to look at his body, Killian is staring straight ahead. Staring at a torn map he's studied often in the past, Killian realizing he's still on his ship, is actually in his own private bedroom cabin. It is not as he had last seen it, the room actually wrecked. Furniture is knocked over, in one case broken, and things have been tossed aside as though battered by winds. A map is actually on the floor, books scattered, and treasure spilled. 

Messy though the room is, Killian is still glad to see it. Still ready to laugh in relief, thinking that the worst is over. He's not knowing what his break was, what had allowed him to escape the darkness, Killian is not even wondering if the Dark One is gone for good. He's simply too busy thanking his lucky stars, grateful to be free of that shadowy prison, to be able to breathe, and see, to even laugh. 

And then he hears it. That sound again, louder than it had been inside the Dark One's prison. Killian's joy stills, his body freezing in place, as he realizes he is not alone, that there is someone in the bed with him. He doesn't want to turn, doesn't want to see, because the sound that he's been hearing? It is the sound of muffled tears. A woman is crying, and not just any woman. Killian recognizes her voice, though he is not at all familiar with her tears. 

Holding in bitter tears, Emma Swan is doing her best not to break down completely. She goes whole minutes without so much as a sniffle, but even her best attempts can only muffle her anger and exhaustion for so long. Killian hears the chief emotions in the grief she does voice, and knows that not only was he never meant to hear them, Emma Swan was never meant to be made to feel this way. 

Broken. 

Bracing himself for the worst, Killian still flinches when he turns to look at Emma. Even with her back to him, Killian can see the damage. The bruises from where the darkness had touched her, the way her skin is paler than it should be. Worse yet, Killian sees blood, and he has no idea WHO it belongs to, and is too scared to ask. 

Killian looks at Emma, and not only feels concern, but GUILT. Knowing he put at least part of this in motion, that it was his fault that the darkness had been unleashed, and wondering if his own desires had somehow twisted the Dark One's own actions, Killian realizes that his revenge just hadn't been worth it. 

Not when it's cost this much, has hurt so many, has hurt THIS woman in particular. Killian stares at Emma's back, and for once he's not fighting, not fearing what she could someday become to him. The healing that she represents, the chance for him to get over his loss, to actually move on from Milah's death is no longer anything that can frighten Killian. Not when he's dealt with the darkness firsthand. He looks at Emma and sees his hope, and then she makes that sound again. 

That angry sound of a woman hurt, a woman grieving, makes Killian flinch. Actually cringe with the thought that his realizations may have come too late, that his hope may be broken before he can truly reach for it. He wants to scream with anger at what he has helped cost them, what his repeated attempts to push Emma away from him have done, he's almost too far gone to respond to HER needs. 

But then Emma makes another muffled attempt to hide the fact she is trying not to cry. That reaches past his own self centered upset, Killian reacting, reaching to not only lay a hand on Emma's shoulder, but to turn her towards him. Several things happen at once, the woman tensing. Killian realizes his mistake, that he shouldn't have tried to touch her with the hand of the body that had been violating her. He goes to draw back, but Emma turns and comes out swinging. 

The next moments are intense, Emma repeatedly striking Killian with her fists. He reacts to stop her, grabbing at her, hauling her upright into his arms, Killian trying to restrain and calm her, and getting slapped and clawed for his attempts. He endures each blow, actually feels his blood spill, but the skin Emma splits heals almost immediately. It gives him an idea of how things might have gone down, Emma fighting but ultimately succeeding in doing nothing but tiring herself out. 

Just as she's doing now, trying to hurt that which she can't, Emma not even truly seeing who she is attacking. She certainly doesn't recognize it's Killian and not the Dark One, certainly doesn't register the patience the pirate is showing, or that he's not hitting her back. And above all, she doesn't take time to look in his eyes, to notice that there is no black showing, Kilian's gaze clear of the darkness and bright with the man’s worry. 

Emma fights, and Killian lets her, is still holding onto her when she finally sags in exhaustion. Her face is red and tear streaked, Emma letting out a great hiccup of sound. She's not looking at him, actually collapses against him with her head resting against his shoulder. He can hear how hard she breaths, the great heaving pants of sound that she lets out. It just makes his guilt all the worse, Killian sitting there, holding Emma and trying to think what to say. But what can he say, what can he possible do, when there seems nothing can fix what has already happened. I'm sorry just doesn't seem good enough, even though he means it, feels it and regret with every inch of his being. 

"Emma..." He chokes on her name, has to swallow and pause a second, before he tries again. "Emma...what...what happened?" 

Doing nothing in response, Emma just sits there quiet. Killian is sure she hasn't heard him, actually wonders if she has passed out against him. He doesn't try to touch her again, not wanting to trigger another violent outburst or worst yet her tears. 

"What happened?" He repeats, louder this time. His voice is bewildered, showing how he is confused by what he thinks he knows. "I mean, last time I saw you, you were....that is...we were...we were about to have sex." And then the darkness had taken control, had trapped Killian in the shadows, and had done something that made Emma fear it. 

"Emma..." 

The blonde shifts, actually lifts her head up so that her gaze is on him. He is pinned by that look, by the anger that is now blazing in her eyes. The anger is still a better look than her grief or her fear, Killian far better equipped to deal with an Emma that is mad than an Emma that is crying. 

"Hook." She says, and the words come hissing out of her. "You're back." 

Killian nods. "How long has it been? How long since..." Her fist catches him across the cheek, stopping his questions as Killian bites down on his own tongue. Emma is screaming, and it's an angry sound, but also a hurt one. 

"You left me!" She snarls, her eyes bright and blazing. "You left me with that...that thing!" She is trying to hit him again, and screams even louder when he grabs hold of her wrist. It sets off an even more intense struggle, the two fighting and ultimately falling over, Killian pinning Emma to the mattress with his body. 

"I had no choice!" He screams down at her, watching the panic try to take over in her gaze. "That THING took control, actually took my body away from me! You think I WANTED to leave you with it, knowing what it wanted to do...with the danger it posed to you and your family?!" 

Emma was shaking her head, her eyes tightly closed as her body trembled. Killian let out a deep breath, trying to calm himself and lower his voice. "Cora wants you dead. Wants the darkness to kill you and your family...." 

"Not anymore." Emma abruptly says, her eyes opening to revealed a troubled gaze. Killian frowns, not understanding. "You've been gone a long time Hook." She says, and relaxes her body, no longer tense or trying to fight him. 

"Not that long for Cora to ever change." Killian tries to speak with conviction, but he is fearing Emma speaks the truth, that he has lost more time than he had first thought, and that things are about to be made more awful than he could possibly have anticipated. 

Emma lets out a bitter sound, a half chuckle half sob as she lean back tiredly into the mattress. "She's gotten worse, if you can believe it." Emma grimaces. "But then I suppose ultimate power does that." 

"Ultimate power?" 

"She controls the darkness." Emma explains. "And she is not at all shy about using it. Or me..." The last is said almost too softly for Killian to hear, the man giving Emma a sharp look. 

"What does that mean?" He demands. 

"I'm it's reward." Emma says in a bland, neutral tone. "The treat that Cora uses to try and tame the darkness." 

Killian is flabbergasted, gaping with an open mouth at Emma. "That bitch." He finally says, and Emma lets out a shocked bit of laughter. 

"I've called her worse." She admits. "We all have." 

"We?" 

"Take your pick. Just about anyone in Storybrooke has cursed Cora's name, though not many will do it to her face. Not if they want to survive." Emma explained. "Storybrooke is not as you remember it." Emma says with a sigh. "Perhaps nothing is..." 

"I can't have been gone long enough for everything to have change that drastically!" Killian protests. The look Emma gives him plants the first seed of doubt, one Killian tries to ignore. "I can't have..." 

Emma just stares at him, neither angry nor sad, just accepting of reality as it now is. Killian realizes he can believe her, that it's been more than a few hours since he had first kissed and groped Emma. It has to be, for her to be this way, this broken and tired. And yet he doesn't want to accept it, scared to ask, but doing so anyway. 

"How long have I been gone?" He starts to shake her, when Emma doesn't immediately answer. "How much time have I lost?!" 

"A week!" She snaps at him. "You've been gone for almost a week!" 

To say she has shocked him would be an understatement, Killian actually gasping. He then drops his hold on Emma's arm, letting her slump back against the mattress. She reaches up to cover her face, actually shakes with emotion a second before Killian realizes she has finally given in to her tears. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	8. Eight

There is a split second moment, where Emma reaps the rewards of having shocked the man known as Captain Hook. A moment where she sees his eyes widen, his lips part on a gasp, the man actually gaping at her in a slack jawed manner. Once such a look on his face, his shock downright comical, might have made Emma laugh. Now instead, she feels something break inside her, the cracked walls she has used to keep her feelings in check, ripping apart. And with their collapse, her face crumples, Emma already bringing her hands up to hide behind. 

But there is no hiding the fact that she is crying. Not from him, and not from herself, Emma openly weeping. Feeling the many tears slick her cheeks, big fat drops that don't want to stop, and Emma is choking on a hiccup of sound. Half laughing, half sobbing, and resenting how humiliating this all is. Because it is, Emma hurting and hating how weak this crying makes her seem. It doesn't matter that she's held off for days now, that she's kept her inner grief and turmoil limited to angry screams. Emma hates that she cries for any reason, but most of all she despises that Hook is here to see. 

And yet she is unable to stop, the great sobs thundering out of her. Emma shakes with the sound, actually trembles with it while underneath Hook. Curses his timing, wondering why fate could be so cruel as to allow Hook to surface just in time for Emma to have a complete and utter emotional breakdown. 

It's the first real cry she's had, the first attempt Emma's made to voice her sorrow. Her muffled fight to not cry before hand, the draw that had reached past the darkness, to bring Hook to her, is nothing compared to how she cries now. Emma doesn't know it, might not have even cared if she had, but her tears were what had brought Hook back. Her tears, and the concern he feels for her, the sounds she had been muffling, reaching deep within to draw him out. 

In fact, Emma is not even really sure that this is Hook that is on top of her. She is afraid, far too frightened to truly hope, and the darkness has hurt her so many times already. Emma's not even sure this isn't some sick trick of the darkness, that that thing isn't playing some twisted game with her, wanting to wring out everything from her, even her emotions until she is all used up. 

She's too upset to truly think. To notice the differences in behavior. She doesn't know that the darkness isn't good at acting, and is incapable of holding back on it's urges. She doesn't think to notice that this is the longest it has been on top of her WITHOUT molesting or abusing her in some way. Exhausted on all levels, Emma's too tired to realize the body on top of hers is NOT aroused. 

Hook's not at all excited, and once he would have been astounded at the mere idea that finding himself on top of Emma Swan was anything but arousing. But it's not, and he's not, the man cringing as he listens to her sobbing. Hook, or Killian as he once was known, feels a great many things. Shock, horror, and most of all anger. He hates that this strong woman has been broken so, that his own body had been instrumental in hurting her. He can't stop thinking how it's all his fault, doesn't even try to cast some of the blame on Cora. It was his revenge after all. His revenge that had driven him to find and use the dagger. His hand was just as dirty as that red haired bitch's, but Emma was the one paying the price for HIS sins. 

He can't even think on how to comfort her. Doesn't know how to save her from the fate Emma's been delivered into. Killian doesn't even know where the darkness has gone, but he doesn't believe it's retreat is anything but temporary. Rightfully fearing it's return, and what it will mean for Emma, Killian not even sure he should try to touch her anymore than he already has. How can he with a hand as dirty as his, a hand the darkness had used to do God knows what to hurt Emma. 

Killian doesn't know exactly what has gone on, but the fact that he and Emma are both naked, is as good an indication as anything else. And then it hits him how wrong it is, how he shouldn't be on top of her clothed, let alone naked. Not after what she's been through, Killian lurching off Emma faster than he can breathe. 

She doesn't stop crying, even after he's left the bed. Killian stands with his back to her, cringing at the sounds she makes, the pure tired grief she lets out. He looks around the room, at the mess that has been made, but it's noting compared to the mess the darkness has made of Emma. It's not so much how she is on the outside, but the inside that has been damaged, and Killian can't begin to imagine how to fix it. 

As broken down as she feels, Emma is still aware when Hook or the darkness as she fears him to truly be, leaves the bed. She doesn't feel any relief, having learned first hand how quickly it can return. How quickly it can change it's mind, how fast it's cruel hunger can rear up. Emma has learned to fear every second the darkness is with her, knowing that all it takes is an instant for it to get aroused. Sometimes by the littlest things, such as the time she had bit her lip in an effort to keep from screaming, or the time she had touched between her legs, trying to clean up the mess the darkness had left behind. 

Emma's always on edge, trying to hold still. Trying to not draw the monster's attention to her. Sometimes she's scared to even breathe, and the only truly safe place she has is the reality she tries to escape to in her mind. In her mind she can do anything, can act without fear. Her thoughts are the one thing the darkness hasn't been able to claim, leaving Emma free to curse and rail against it without fear of repercussion or of her defiance twistedly arousing it. 

She's learned to hold in her feelings, to bite back her temper. To sit and stew in misery, and Emma is still too scared to believe that Hook has returned, that the man has somehow broken free of the monster. Hook's lucky in that way, for it lets the man avoid the tearing into Emma would have normally given him. 

But not the scared flinching, Emma reacting in pure fright when she feels the damp wash cloth against her warm skin. It's only her arm, and yet she's jerking away, lashing out with it in a wild swing. 

"Easy." She hears Hook say, and Emma would have started laughing hysterically if he had made claims that he wasn't going to hurt her. "I'm just trying to..." 

"Trying to what?!" Emma demands in a rude tone, the arm he had brushed the wash cloth over, held against her bare breasts. "To help me?" She scoffs then. "You've done enough." 

He doesn't get angry, merely thrusts the wash cloth before her. Emma stares at him instead of the wet rag, her brow furrowed to show her complete lack of understanding. 

"It's a nasty scratch." He says. "I don't want it to get any more infected than it might already be." Emma doesn't even look at her arm, staring warily at Hook. Her lack of reaction to what he says, seems to frustrate the man, the cloth dropping to lay on the bed so that Hook can run his hand through his tangled hair. 

"You have a lot of blood on you." Hook continues. "Can't seem to see anything that could have caused it beyond that thing on your arm..." 

"It's not my blood." Emma tells him, watching Hook blink in surprise. "Mostly." She adds, with a glimmer of a sickly smile that doesn't last, that holds no true satisfaction to it. Hook, or rather the Dark One, simply healed too fast, Emma having broken nails in her attempts to claw at it. She's even gone so far as to break things against it, but even a heavy paper weight to the head, had done nothing, not even to stun it. 

Hook was looking at her, at the blood all over her body. Emma could tell he was processing what amounted to a lot of damage for this much blood to have been spilled. The worse part was not all of it was fresh, some of it old enough to have dried. Emma can't remember the last time she's truly taken a bath, a day, two, even three? The darkness has ruined even that experience, insisting on being a hands on participant to Emma's attempts to get clean. 

The darkness involved itself in nearly every aspect of Emma's care. It practically demanded it, was fascinated by the oddest of things. Not that it always knew what to do with a human. Especially one that it wanted to KEEP. The first days with the darkness had been the hardest, the monster not knowing it was going too far, was pushing Emma past the limits of strength and stamina. It had nearly killed her with the sex, Emma exhausted to the point she had passed out several times in the darkness' arms. 

It was during one of those times, that Cora had appeared. That heartless redhead had truly looked amused by what she had walked in on, not so much chastising the darkness as giving it tips to keep Emma alive LONGER. 

The darkness had been quick to act on what Cora had told it, might have almost been chagrined at the thought of irreparably breaking it's toy. It learned to control itself somewhat, to not test the limits of Emma's endurance. It actually conceded to the fact Emma needed rest, and plenty of it, if she was going to stand any chance of keeping up with the darkness for long. It learned that humans, even one that had magic inside her, needed food and water on a regular basis. 

Cora provided a gloating tutelage, instructing the darkness on many things. Under her guidance, it learned to lessen the force it used when it's temper was aroused so as to not accidentally kill Emma in a fit of anger. 

Of course, Cora hadn't just come to help teach the darkness how to better treat Emma. She had come with her own tortures in mind, Cora wanting to tell Emma just some of the many wrongs being committed in Storybrooke. Wrongs that were influenced in part by the darkness' own presence. 

It's evil was seeping into the town, infecting the people there. Only those purest of heart, were able to resist it's influence. Those naturally inclined to evil, or those that bordered between good and bad, were changing. Becoming corrupt, acting in malicious ways, stealing, threathening, even murdering. Storybrooke had changed from peaceful haven, to a town whose streets weren't safe to walk at night. And it was ALWAYS night, some magical side effect of the Dark One being given free reign to do much of what it had pleased. 

The town in upheaval, the chaos was overseen by Cora herself. Naming herself supreme ruler of the darkened Storybrooke, the Queen of Hearts actively sought those too good to turn evil. Pandemonium ruled, those pure of heart in hiding, but Emma refused to believe they weren't gathering their forces. Cora wouldn't be trying so hard to find them if she didn't believe a rebellion was brewing, one that might overthrow her control of the town. 

Emma held on to the hope that the dwarves and Ruby, that Doctor Hopper and Gepetto were still out there. That they would unite and fight Cora, find and free Mary Margaret and David. That together these good people would put an end to not only Cora, but the darkness itself. Emma believed this because she had to, the thought that someone would end the madness she had been thrust into, that someone would save her from this nightmare she kept on living, was the only thing that kept Emma from losing her mind. 

But a voice whispered deep inside her. A snide insistence that she was wrong to rely on others, to put her hopes and trust in anyone's hand. That she had already been burnt a thousand times, that no one was going to save her, that it was up to Emma to do something but it wouldn't tell her what. And most time she was too tired to even try to figure it out. 

She wasn't even moving to take care of her arm, even as she knows the wound is deep and in need of cleaning. Hook tries again, picking up the wet rag, and brushing it over Emma's arm. She starts to jerk away, then freezes at his question. 

"Has it really been almost a week?" Emma doesn't immediately say anything, leaving Hook to ask again. "Are you sure it's been that long...?" 

And then Emma is snapping, actually snarling at him. "Of course I'm not entirely sure! It's impossible to know how much time I've lost without even the sun to keep track of!" The startled and confused look Hook gives her, makes Emma realizes he hasn't even looked out the cabin's portholes. She makes a rude noise, waving her injured arm in the direction of the nearest porthole. "Take a good look. That's what eternal darkness looks like!" 

Killian already knows better than Emma thinks, what never ending darkness looks like. He shivers at the memory, doesn't look towards the porthole instead keeping his eyes on Emma. On her eyes which are flashing bright with her anger. He's not sure that brightness has all to do with her feelings, Killian having felt how warm her skin feels. He fears she is coming down with a sickness, might already have the beginnings of a fever. 

Emma being laid out with sickness would be making a bad situation even worse, Killian not at all sure she'd survive the darkness in that case. He resumes trying to clean her arm, thankful that the small chest with bandages and various ointments and medicines, hadn't been damaged when the darkness had tore through the bedroom. 

Cleaning the scratch, then applying a cream to fight infection, Killian slowly bandages up her arm. She's still got blood all over herself but he doesn't dare try to clean her anywhere else, fearing how Emma would react. 

"Are you saying it's been night ever since I..." 

"Ever since you disappeared." finished Emma with a glare. "Or roughly around that time." She conceded as an after thought. "Where it goes, evil follows...." 

Those words make him shiver, for Killian knows that they are absolutely true. The darkness is evil, and is capable of just about anything. But he's not thinking what effect the Dark One might be having on the town, on the people of Storybrooke. His experience is still too limited, Killian only knowing what the darkness can do up close and personal. Emma is just one battered victim of the darkness, and Killian can barely bring himself to look her in the eyes let alone ask exactly what had happened, what it had done to make her this way. 

He knows at some point they will have to address it. He has too many questions, is confused over the last sight he had had of Emma, before being locked up by the monster inside him. Emma had been willing if cautious in his memories, but that seductive siren was no more. Now she was angry, and when she wasn't glaring, she looked ready to cry. There were dark circles under her eyes, and bruises amidst the blood. Somehow things had gone very wrong, had gotten out of Emma's control, and Killian wasn't sure how he'd ever have a chance to help her, or a chance to fix things between them. 

Since he couldn't face what had happened to Emma just yet, Killian tried to turn the conversation to something else. Something that might be easier to hear, Killian wondering about the fate of Henry and Emma Swan's parents. The boy was probably with Regina, though what condition the child would be in, Killian couldn't guess. As for Emma's parents, he feared they were dead, and yet still he asked about them, needing at least a confirmation of what he suspected. 

But when he started to ask, Emma suddenly shifted, picking at the bandage on her arm rather than look at him. "Why?" She asked, with a voice of barely contained anger. 

"Why?" Killian wasn't exactly sure what Emma was asking, but before he could even begin to question her, she was digging her torn and ragged nails into her bandaged arm. "Don't do that!" He snapped at her, making a grab for her wrist. She immediately lashed out, as though she had been waiting for him to get close, and Emma wasn't content to slap him just one time. 

"Why did you leave me?!" She screamed, and that question was enough to make Killian just sit there and endure her slaps. They punctuated her questions, the words that she shouted at him, hurting more than if she had stabbed him a hundred times over with a sword. "Why didn't you stay?! Why didn't you protect me?!" 

All her hurt and betrayed feelings were coming out, Emma trying to beat HOOK up for the crimes committed against her. It wasn't just for the abuse the darkness had done. She was angry with Hook himself, feeling as though he had abandoned her at the worst possible time. She didn't understand it, might not have cared if she had known that the darkness hadn't given Hook a choice. All Emma could currently see was that he had left her with a monster, and that nothing was ever going to be okay in her world again. 

It didn't matter that Hook had come back. That he was finally here. She didn't know if the darkness would return, didn't even know for sure if it wasn't already here, and just messing with her in some new way. All she could focus on was that Hook had failed her in the most essential of ways. 

"I thought we were starting to be friends!" Emma continued to scream out loud. "I protected you from Gold! I kept him from KILLING you after you shot Belle!" She was starting to choke, feeling close to crying again. She was sure by the heat in her face, that she was turning an angry shade of red, and Emma couldn't stop screaming, couldn't stop thinking how she had protected Hook even after all he had done. There was a list of betrayals between them, and yet Emma had thought she and Hook had had some kind of understanding. That they had started to move past it, that they might have been becoming friends or at the very least allies. The fact of the matter was, Emma had expected Hook to protect her in turn, if only because he owed her for the saving of his life from Gold. 

Some part of her recognizes that she's not being completely reasonable, that maybe Hook hadn't really owed her as much as she thinks. That just makes Emma angrier, as does the fact that no matter how much she hits that handsome face, it never grows ugly, not even in expression. Hook is again enduring her fists and her screams, taking it all the way the darkness NEVER would. And it is at that moment that Emma finally allows herself to truly believe that this is Hook and not the monster playing games with her. 

"Why didn't you protect me..." She finally whimpers and collapses. She's fallen against his chest, not caring that he's naked, that she is naked too. Emma is crying again, and that is humiliating too, as is the wish that he'd do something more than just sit there like a statue. She wants, needs comfort, craves for someone to touch her without making any twisted demands of her body in return. Emma wants to remember what it's like to be touched in a friendly manner, with no sex or rape to distort things for her. 

Emma cries and she cries, and Hook just sits there. He's not saying much, not even offering up false lies to soothe her. It's still better than what the darkness would have done, how it would have jumped on her at this sign of weakness. But because it's not the darkness, but Hook before her, Emma feels free to press against him and finally give in to all the pent up feelings and fears inside her. 

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To Be Continued....


	9. Nine

Killian Jones, the man known also as Captain Hook, hasn't had a lot of true happiness in his long and storied life. There's been more downs than ups, a string of losses following one right after the other in a short amount of time. He's lost his country, his family, and most of all Killian's lost his heart. Hurt by the loss of each of these things, he's long given up on life, on friendships, on hope. Thinking true happiness impossible for the likes of one such as him, Killian had been living for one reason alone. 

Revenge. 

It's a revenge he's been long chasing after since the day that his Milah died, since the day she was cruelly murdered by an evil Killian thought that he knew. But a week into his prison as host to the Dark One, and Killian Jones realizes he has understood very little where vengeance and evil was concerned. Never mind that he just might be wrong about just who---what had truly killed Milah that day, Killian now knows his hope hadn't truly been as gone as he had thought, that it had been even closer than he had wanted to acknowledge. And just as he was finally ready to accept it back into his life, to acknowledge the woman who was his hope's representation brought to life, Killian Jones fears all chance of it is lost. Because how can a woman who is so hurt and afraid, so scarred by her experiences, still be that hope to him, when it was Killian's thirst for revenge that had led her to this state? When it was Killian, unwitting though he might have been, that had hand delivered her to a monster intent on possessing every bit of Emma Swan's soul? 

Killian doesn't think it possible, doesn't think he has any right to want Emma to be his hope. He can't imagine her doing anything but spitting in his face, the woman most likely beyond wanting to help Killian, to heal him, to be his friend and more. He doesn't think he even has the right to feel sorry for himself, and yet Killian can't quite stifle it. Because he now knows how stupid he has been, how revenge isn't worth it, how he should have picked Emma and the second chance at love and life she could have been for him. 

Now he's left with everything in shambles, Emma perhaps the most broken piece of all. Listening to her cry her heart out, her face buried against his chest. Killian's not wearing a shirt for Emma to cling to, her nails digging into his skin. He doesn't protest that stinging bite of pain, just sits there as still as a statue. He’s furious with himself, with the darkness, with his revenge blinding him to everything until it was too late. He's again letting hope die, not daring to let himself believe there might be a chance of something, anything for him, let alone a chance for a future WITH Emma. 

He just stares straight ahead, inwardly flinching with every gut wrenching sob that Emma lets out. Occasionally his hand lifts, but always Killian stops himself from going that final step and actually touching Emma Swan. He's too concerned with what rights he doesn't have, to recognize that she needs comfort even when it's his body that has been used to hurt her. He feels dirty, wretched, unfit to lay any kind of touch on Emma Swan. Even when an undemanding touch is exactly what she needs in the moment. 

Emma Swan cries herself out, and when she finally stops, Killian doesn't immediately register the silence. He's too busy comparing the state that he's found Emma in, the things she's suffered, the damage that has been done to their chance, recognizing it as a moment just as heart wrenching as the day he had lost his Milah to the darkness that had possessed Rumplestiltskin. The pain is so similar to that time, that Killian almost can't bear it. His heart might actually irreparably break if it wasn't for the darkness keeping it together with it's firm grasp. A tear actually slips down his own cheek, but Killian doesn't do anything more. Not until he realizes Emma has quieted down, has actually slumped against him. Killian thinks her asleep, and starts to shift away from her, though the pirate doesn't intend to go very far. 

The renewed dig of her nails in his chest startles the pirate into realizing the woman is still awake. Awake and not wanting to lose the only connection she currently has, the only person Emma has been allowed to see that wasn't the Darkness or Cora come to torment her. She might be angry with the pirate, might even hate him for what he has helped facilitate, but Emma Swan also wants so badly to have a friend. An ally, someone who is not intent on hurting her in some way. Emma wants comfort, might even be wanting some kind of hope, though she's too scared to believe in that anymore. 

Emma's not getting what she needs, but at least she's not being made to submit to the things she hates. It's Killian she clings to, the pirate who looks at her, who listens to her cry without making demands. Without getting turned on, without jumping on her, and getting drunk off her tears. The look in Killian's eyes is one of concern, and has nothing to do with lust. He's not smirking at her, or worse yet smiling with cruel intentions. He's not forcing her to feel things, revulsion, fear. He's not using everything in reach to turn her body against her, not whispering huskily in her ear. He's not doing any of those things, and for the first time Emma feels able to truly breathe. Though the tension doesn't leave her, Emma not daring to believe that the Darkness is gone for good. 

Not daring to believe, not wanting hope to build, Emma Swan can only accept the moment for what it is. A much needed break, a brief respite to a torment that has been endless. So unused to being able to take a moment truly to herself, Emma is not sure just what to do first. Sleep might be the most demanding of her needs, Emma beyond exhausted in body, mind and soul. Even as her body screams for it, Emma refuses to truly rest. She's simply too fearful, not wanting to wake to the nightmare that is her new reality. Some part of her is unsure she's not already sleeping, her mind spinning a fanciful dream to soothe it's troubled state. 

Awake or asleep, Emma fears the Darkness' return. Fears the moment Hook's eyes will be swallowed up with that soulless black. Some part of her knows it's inevitable, that this moment with Hook can't last. So she digs her ragged nails into him, trying to hold him to her through any means. 

The pain draws a hiss out of Killian, though Emma's nails are the least he can endure. She's owed a lot more when it comes to dealing him pain, Killian feeling the weight, the debt of his and the Darkness' sins combining. The guilt of it all is almost enough to make the pirate sink back under the weight of it, to lose himself to the suffocating presence of the inky black oblivion the darkness had tried to drown Killian in. Shame faced and guilty, Killian doesn't let the darkness devour him completely only because of Emma. For her, Killian worried and fearing, trying to wrack his brain on how to help save her. 

It doesn't come immediately to him. More of his blood is spilled, Emma merciless in her need. But a glimmer of a plan sparks amidst the pain, Killian ready to sacrifice anything, even his own existence to see this woman to safety. He doesn't care of the consequences, doesn't think beyond that cold sea of drowning darkness as the worst thing that monster will do. He's ready to be the hero Hook never was, ready to give Emma her chance, her hope of a future, a life beyond the darkness' grasp. 

Emma finally gets the touch she's been yearning for, but it's not anywhere as comforting as she had hoped. Because she can sense the demand in it, the tension that lay under the surface of it's skin. Hook might not be looking for sex, but there is something that he does want. Something that makes Emma flinch to hear it, the woman digging her nails in and staring at the rivulets of blood that run down Hook's chest. 

Killian hisses, actually transfer his hand from the gentle urging grip on her shoulder, to something more forceful as he tries to pry her hands off of him. Emma fights him, and Killian doesn't know if she's hearing what he's saying. She's not even looking up at him, as though she's given up so completely, she won't even consider his plan. 

But Killian is persistent, desperate in his need to save her. Dragging her hands away, both her wrists held prisoner in his grip, Killian all but shouts at Emma. 

"I'm going to get you out of here!" 

Unblinking is her stare, her look one of total disbelief. But at least she's finally stopped fighting, might even be willing to truly listen to his words. She might not be the only one listening, Killian well aware of the monster that hides in his body. A creature of pure evil that has been silent for too long, Killian not knowing it's game, but fearing it's return. 

Well aware that even the softest of whispers will be heard for the darkness itself is inside Killian's head, the pirate still tries to lay out a plan of action to Emma. Telling her of the one hope he has, the only chance she might have to get away for good from the darkness. Speaking of the town's boundary, Killian holding out hope that the magic that kept everyone basically trapped in Storybrooke would be a curse strong enough to cripple the very dark itself. 

Cripple but not kill, Killian not knowing of anything that could do away with the Dark One for good. Because it was an evil existence, something sprung to life not just because of magic, but because of the wicked and impurities of man's heart on a whole. An ancient evil made real by the darkness of not just the first man, but of all the humans to have ever existed through out time. And with each heart turned to darkness, the monster had only grown more powerful, until there was no hope of destroying it, only controlling it for a time. 

But that control wasn't lasting, the darkness not something that could actually be tamed. It merely bid it's time, waiting, watching, angry and ready. None of the dagger's holders had been able to outlive let alone outlast the darkness. Always it found a way, and it's retribution was fast, furious, and without mercy. Even if it had to change bodies to do it. Killian knows his body is not invaluable, that the darkness will discard him like trash if it meant it was one step closer to getting a choke hold on Cora. 

Killian fears that day is coming and soon. The darkness will kill Cora, even if it has to destroy the witch from the inside out, and Emma won't be safe no matter what body the darkness ultimately ends up in. She's not safe even now, because Killian is sure he can feel the darkness moving around inside him. That faint whisper he hears, might very well be it's laugh, urging Killian to hurry in response to it. 

The same can't be said about Emma, the woman just tiredly shaking her head. She knows better than to try to run, knows hope has no place in a world were the darkness exists. She won't even consider the hope that Hook tries to give her, or the chance it gives her to save herself. Not when there's so much that will go wrong, Storybrooke itself in danger, the people, her friends, her family, her son all in danger. It's they who will be made to pay, they who will suffer should Emma try to run. It's not Cora, or Regina she fears the wrath of, but the darkness itself, Emma not believing that a simple dagger can truly control it. 

Let alone a man, any of them, but especially Hook. He's no stranger to dark impulses, ruthless enough to do just about anything to get what he wants. He's proven that with the killing of Rumplestilstkin, with unleashing the monster from the one vessel that had been able to hold it, from a mind that had finally learned to suppress the worst of it. Emma doesn't understand why Hook would do this, why he would go so far for a revenge that seems meaningless. She doesn't know enough about Milah, about the history shared with Rumplestiltskin, or the love both men had lost. Emma's too exhausted to even try to think straight, to wonder what was the truth behind Hook's revenge. 

Nor does she give proper thought to the reason behind Hook's now desperate need to save her. She can sense his frustration, his lack of understanding in regards to her own dull reaction. He might even be scared by it, by the fact that Emma is not leaping at the chance to escape the monster that is the darkness made real. But he doesn't give up, actually tries to drag her up off the bed. 

Unsteady on her feet, Emma actually sways, feeling her legs tremble as something unpleasant slides down her body. She's covered in sweat and blood and things best left unmentioned, Emma feeling absolutely filthy and no longer able to stand it. 

"I want to take a bath." 

It's as if Hook doesn't hear her at first, still trying his best to stir her interest into his scheme. He's actually talking as if Emma hadn't said anything, still trying to drag her away from the bed, and only her struggles keep him from picking her up off her feet. 

"It's the land without magic." Hook is saying. "The Dark One won't be able to follow you there. It'll be stripped of it's power, maybe even it's life...maybe..." 

Hook doesn't finish his thought, but Emma can guess at what he's not saying. Because Hook wants to be free of the monster inside him, might even be willing to die to get away from it. Willing but still holding onto that slim chance of hope that it won't come to that, that there will be a way, some opportunity to both live and be free of it. But there's no escaping the darkness, not once it's got it's claws set so deep in you. 

Unable to hope, just barely able to care, Emma's able to wrench herself free of Hook's grip by reminding him of her family. Of the things the darkness will no doubt do to them, of how it will make them wish and beg for death. Emma loves them too much to risk them, especially on just a chance of the darkness being destroyed. 

Made to acknowledge that there are consequences to any actions they might take, Hook can only stand there with a frustrated look in his eyes. "Then what do we do?" He asks. "How do we defeat it?" 

"We don't." Emma says with a voice that is dead of all emotions. Hook seems to flinch in response to that, and before he can say anything, argue against it, Emma turns away. She's in no mood to listen to Hook form plan after plan, has no desire to be part of his hope. Nor does she want to dash it, taking no joy in watching hope die in another's eyes. There's not much room for joy of any kind in Emma's life these days, happiness a luxury in short demand. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To be continued...


	10. Ten

The dark hears the woman speak, tastes the defeat in her words. Even broken and without hope, Emma Swan's inner light is still brilliant, still an untainted purity that draws the darkness to it. It's a power like nothing the Dark One has ever seen, a light to rival and combat the darkness, ying to it's yang. The darkness should fear that light, should fear what it could do. But it's a power wielded by inexpert hands, the light easily smothered by the shadows and the suffocating embrace of the darkness. Just as it can destroy the light, so too can dark be destroyed by it in turn. 

Having tasted only a sliver of it's true power, the darkness is learning to be cautious. Is actually taking a step back to watch and learn, to assess the threat that this power might pose it. Already it has done something the Dark One does not like, it's vessel's host, the man Killian Jones being drawn out of the prison the darkness had sunk him into. 

As surprising as it is unwanted, the darkness had never intended for Killian Jones to get free. Having wanted to smother Killian Jones completely, to drown him in darkness until nothing of his sanity remained, the light has upset all that. Because Killain Jones is not crazy, or brain dead, the man in complete control of his facilities, though he is weighted down by his guilt. 

The darkness feeds off the man's guilt, though it's not a particularly pleasing taste. Better will be the moment Killian Jones completely gives up on hope, the darkness ready to swallow down all of the man's despair, then crush him one final time. Killian Jones is not anywhere near that moment, the man stubbornly hanging on. The darkness doesn't understand, doesn't believe in the power of hope, can't comprehend the amount of care and concern the pirate feels for one person in particular. It's all soft hearted emotions the pirate feels for Emma Swan, and it's all so far out of the darkness' ability to understand. 

Easier to swallow is the despairing emotions, the fright and the guilt. The darkness knows about those, has caused those feelings in it's victims, has even used them to manipulate those it targets. Just as lust can drive a man to do a great many things, so can fear, and despair, and cause a desperate desire to live no matter what. 

But Killian Jones isn't thinking about saving himself. Isn't thinking selfishly for once in his life. He's all about Emma, about the concern she rouses in him, the tender developing affection the pirate still fights because now he deems it wholly inappropriate to feel. He's almost as confusing to the darkness as Emma Swan is, and unlike the case of the woman, the Dark One doesn't like what the pirate makes it feel. 

Feeling sickened by the pirate's thoughts, his selfless concern, the darkness can only pace in agitation inside the body. Killian Jones feels it's turmoil, the darkness' agitation a prickling awareness in the back of his mind. But it doesn't try to seize control, doesn't try to lock Killian down in that prison of shadows. It gives the man free reign to do as he pleases, and for that Killian is wary in turn. Because he doesn't trust the silence, doesn't believe this freedom will last forever. He's locked into a waiting game with the darkness, knowing that eventually it will surge forward, and then Killian will be lost again, and this time it might be for forever. 

Desperate to make good use of what time he has left, Killian tries not to give in to the frustration and worry that Emma makes him feel. Because she's not leaping at the chance to escape, and Killian can understand why. Her family is in danger, threatened by more than death and torture at the two evil queen's hands. The darkness itself is involved, and it's fury will be boundless should it lose the woman that it lusts for. And yet Killian can't give up on the ideas of escaping it, even destroying it. 

But Emma doesn't give even a flicker of interest in the ideas Killian tries to brainstorm with her. Worse than dismissive, she just doesn't seem to care, and that worries the pirate even more. Because he doesn't know all that has been done to her, can't tell if she's really that dead to hope, or just that good an actress. And Emma's not offering any clues on her own, stoically composed now that she's over her bout of crying in his arms. 

Killian had thought the crying had been bad enough but this? This Emma who hides all feeling, who lets her voice be dead of any emotion? It's a dozen times worse, Killian unable to ascertain just how broken inside she now is. He doesn't recognize it as a defense mechanism, Emma having learned first hand just how exciting the darkness has found her every emotion to be. 

There's very little the darkness doesn't find exciting about Emma Swan. Even the danger her light might have posed to it, is more arousing than something the darkness truly fears. An alien, otherworldly existence, it's wants and desires have gotten confused, mixed together with the pirate's, and further enhanced by the fact it has finally tasted a woman in a way the darkness was never meant to. 

Because by far, all who had come before Killian Jones, had been inherently good. Men who thought to defeat the darkness, to destroy it. Only to fall victim to it, and become prisoner to it's own wants and cruelties. Always quick to act, to torture and ruin, the darkness had destroyed those closest to the vessels, killing whole families before being subdued. Even Rumplestiltskin, the worst of it's vessels, had been helpless before it when it went after the woman that he and Killian Jones had both loved. 

The darkness had reveled in the pleasure that kill had given it. Downright euphoric over it, the darkness had sealed it's own fate. Because with that murderous act, Rumplestiltskin had set out to learn a way to trap the darkness. Determined to make sure the dark would never act out again, it had taken Rumplestiltskin years to get enough power to lock the darkness down tight. What the darkness tried to do to Killian Jones, Rumplestiltskin had done to it. Losing something like three hundred years to exile in the vessel's own body, the darkness was determined to never let Killian Jones have a chance to do the same to it as Rumplestiltskin had once done. 

Especially now, when it was free to enjoy itself in ways it had never before. It might still be a slave to the dagger, but for once it's master's wishes were in sync with it's own. Cora didn't care at all about Emma Swan, actively encouraged the darkness in it's twisted pursuits. And though the darkness still wanted Cora dead, it was content enough for now with Emma in it's bed, as the Dark One waited out it's chance to strike down the red haired queen and all she held dear. 

Cora's days were numbered, and she didn't even realize it. And when she fell, the darkness would take the dagger and hide it so that no one would ever again use it. Determined to never again be anyone' slave. the darkness looked forward to the time when it would once again be free. When everyone, even those with true evil in their hearts, would know to fear the dark, and to worship it. 

But in the meantime, the dark has Emma, her fear and that of the fear that the truly good of Storybrooke felt, more than enough to sate it. It doesn't consider that fear a weapon that can be used against the dark, doesn't think that the few good who remain free might work past it, to unite and ultimately topple the darkness. It doesn't even think that Emma alone, can become powerful enough to defeat the dark. And it's right. Because alone, even the light is not enough, but together with another, with a soul that is starting to resonate with hers? There might just be a chance, where good can win for once and for all over the dark. 

But does either of those two souls have enough time to do what is needed? Does Emma, who is already so tired and defeated, have enough left in her to let down her shields and actually start caring? For someone other than her friends and family, for a man whose body has hurt her, whose desire has become a nightmare? Can she ever truly bond with a man whose guilt is so consuming, he might let it blind him to just the chance of the two of them? Can Killian even let his feelings show when he believes them to be so wrong in the face of all that has happened? And what will the darkness do, should it recognize the true threat the two souls together present? 

Because right now it doesn't, the dark only cautious because the light has surprised it. Not understanding the hows or why of what it has accomplished, the darkness doesn't realize Emma's soul had glowed brightest with her heartache, with the pain that she was in, her attempts at muffling her tears reaching past the barrier and into the shadowy prison Killian Jones had been trying to escape. Even before he had become truly aware of it, Killian had heard Emma crying, and reacted on a level beyond mere instinct. His concern, his internal need to comfort the woman he was coming to care for more than he had ever though possible, rousing him to rush out of the dark, and into the horrors of the reality Emma Swan had been facing on her own. 

But waking up is only the first step, the road a long and hard one that neither Killian nor Emma will be able to navigate alone. Even together it will be difficult, the dark a treacherous thing that will not be denied so easily. Especially of something it wants so badly, the woman whose soul shines with the purest of light. 

Killian can't actually see the light, though he has a sense of what Emma Swan is. Of the goodness inside her, of the strength and determination and beauty both outside and in that had been strong enough to seduce even the dark. He thinks Emma too good, too pure, too beautiful for someone like himself, Killian Jones finding himself unworthy of her long before the darkness had possessed him. 

Those unworthy, I don't deserve her feelings, are made a million times worse, now that Killian has an inkling of what has been going on, what has been done to Emma Swan. He doesn't want to name the crimes out loud, but her pale and bruised flesh, is covered with more than just blood. It hurts to look at her, at it, the evidence of the dark's brutality, a stark reminder to the pirate that he and Emma have lost their chance. Not even the avoiding that he's been doing, can change what has happened, what will happen again if Killian doesn't act fast. 

Desperate for more than just himself, Killian can't think fast enough the ideas he voices out loud to Emma. Any idea is considered, even the ones that seem positively impossible to achieve. Killian's not sure what will actually work, the darkness and Emma both seeming indifferent to the schemes he comes up with. The darkness might even go as far as to laugh at him, Killian inwardly furious, and trying to ignore the monster in his head as he follows a few steps behind Emma around the damaged room. 

Making no real movement towards any of the clothing scattered about the room, much of it in tatters, Emma seems to be gaining back some of her physical strength. At the very least she's no longer swaying, her legs no longer trembling so violently from the effort it took to stand upright. She never once turns to Killian, who follows as close as he dares, the man ready to catch her should her body give in and collapse. 

She doesn't so much as stumble, heading into the private bathroom, a luxury enjoyed by the captain of this pirate ship. Killian stops in the doorway, his eyes briefly assessing the damage that has been done even here. Emma busies herself with drawing a bath, with finding soap, a wash cloth, and even shampoo, all these things scattered about the room. 

Eyes landing on a cracked mirror, Killian is startled by the changes to his appearance. The magical glamour done to further enhance his darkly attractive looks. He looks nothing like the gold scaly skinned imp that Rumplestiltskin had once become, and for a moment Killian allows himself to become distracted. Wondering what the reasons behind the changes were, why the darkness changed the person who held it so much, Killian almost doesn't hear Emma's question. 

"Was it worth it?" 

Killian draw his eyes away from the mirror, finding Emma by the porcelain made bath. She meets his gaze squarely, no sarcastic edge to her voice as she repeats the question. "Was your revenge worth it?" 

Taken aback, Killian can't even take hope in the fact that Emma is showing interest in anything. Not when her question hurts so much, the guilt and self loathing rising within him. He doesn't have to consider the question at all, Killlian slowly shaking his head as he tells her no. 

"No...nothing is worth what I've unleashed. I've found that out the hard way." 

And just like that, her interest is gone, Emma turning to bend over the tub. She's testing the water with her hand, uncaring of her nudity, or what her position shows. Killian quickly turns around, but not before he gasps and feels the surge of lust that is the darkness appreciating the view. Killian is staggered by how intense that feeling is, how the darkness lets out a demanding growl for him to turn around and look at Emma. Killian fight the command, digs both his hook and his fingers into the wood frame of the doorway. His knuckles go white from how hard he grips the doorway, Killian refusing to look at Emma and experience any more of the hateful lust that the darkness has for her. 

Battling the darkness, and his own body, Killian casts about for something, anything to say that will distract it and him. He hears the quiet splash of water disturbed, and knows Emma has settled into the tub. And still he doesn't turn, all his schemes and plots momentarily forgotten as Killian begins trying to tell Emma something he feels she deserves to know. 

"It wasn't about my hand." 

"Hmm?" A disinterested sound from her, Emma more intent on the bath, and the experience of getting clean without the Dark One's so called help. 

"My revenge. It had nothing to do with Rumplestiltskin taking my hand." Killian explained, still gripping the doorway. It's all he can do, the darkness not about to allow him to walk their body away from Emma when the dark is wanting to go to her and act on it's lusts. 

"My hand's loss was nothing compared to what Rumplestiltskin really took from me." Killian continued, though Emma has said nothing in response. Killian didn't know what kind of reply he'd want, if anything she could say, do or feel wouldn't make him feel even more worthless and like a dog. But he wanted her to know, wanted her to understand that it had been more than just revenge, than it had been based on a love lost, on a love actually destroyed. His whole world had been in upheaval, Killian losing what he had thought was his only chance at a happy ending. He had wanted to die, and only the idea of getting revenge on the one who had taken Milah, had been what had kept Killian Jones alive for all these years. 

"When he...when she..." He stumbled on the words, his courage faltering for one second in the face of his need. "There was a woman. Milah. She was the love of my life, the only love I thought I'd ever need." 

"Now I'm not trying to make excuses." Killian added, with a vicious undertone to his voice. "Nothing can make right what has happened. I know that now. But I was heart sick and stupid, and all I wanted was to get my revenge and then die. I didn't believe in the price of revenge, didn't know it would cost not only me, but you, and just about everyone else around us. Hell, some days I think I still wouldn't have cared, so blinded by my own pain." 

"What happened exactly?" Emma asked, and though it was a painful memory, he'd gladly share it with her. 

"I loved a woman name Milah, and do did Rumplestiltskin. And though it wasn't in any way right, I stole her from him, and we were happy together. My Milah and I had a whole future together to look forward to, the happy ending everyone strives for. We were going to grow old together, have a family together, build a life together. We didn't get more than a few years, some cruel twist of fate having us have a run in with a Rumplestiltskin who had gained the power of the darkness." 

Killian let the silence fill the room, let Emma think about all he had said, all that was implied in the fact he had not only taken a woman from a man, but a man who had one day become the host to the Dark One. Killian could almost imagine Emma shivering in reaction, though he didn't turn or go to her to check. 

"All these years..." Killian finally said. "All these years I thought I understood what had happened. What...WHO had killed Milah." 

"But now?" 

"Now I'm not so sure." Killian admitted. "I always thought Rumplestiltskin killed her out of jealousy for loving another. But what if it wasn't him....what if the darkness had possessed his body, the same way it has mine? What if it was the darkness acting out? What if I've been wrong all this time, seeking a revenge against the wrong one, when it was the Dark One who might have been truly responsible for killing Milah?" 

"Hook..." 

"I know what it's capable of now." Killian added. "I know how it can take over, how it can lock me down tight, and do as it pleases with MY body. What if it had been the same for Rumplestiltskin those first years? What if I've been hating the man and instead of the monster? And even if it had been the man who had done the murder, can anything, even the loss I suffered, truly make it okay with what I've let happen to you and the people of Storybrooke?" 

She doesn't try to soothe him with an answer Emma doesn't truly believe in. She doesn't lie and offer false hope, doesn't try to claim that it's all right. Most of all Emma doesn't absolve him of his sins, speaking quietly about how she just doesn't know. 

Killian knows better than to hope for her forgiveness, and still it is disheartening to not get it. He inwardly flinches, starts to turn slightly towards Emma. He meets her eyes and lets her see how sorry he truly is, how troubled he is, how much he regrets everything that's happened. Most of all, he lets her see and hear the sincerity of his next words, Killian telling her for sure that his revenge had not been worth it. 

Killian doesn't know what he expects to happen next. Or even what Emma could say. But she's not looking disinterested, a thoughtful gleam to her eyes as she considers what he had just told her. Hope starts to surge within him, Killian thinking that maybe Emma is ready to consider a plan of attack, their next move against the darkness. 

"Emma..." Thoughts race in his head, faces flash by as Killian remembers the people he has covertly stalked and studied in this town. Trying to think of who can be used who might stand a chance against the darkness, his next idea not even half formed when the pirate realizes his gaze has drifted, and it's not just him who is gazing at Emma's soap covered breasts. 

Jaw clenching, Killian tries to walk out of the room. Actually takes a step into the bedroom part of his cabin. But he can no more escape the sight of Emma wet and soapy, then he can the Dark One, or it's hunger and the fact that it;s already it is moving to wrench back control of the body. Killian fights and screams out a warning that is halted mid syllable. Fights and scrambles with his hand and his hook, trying to find purchase as he plummets down a dark endless abyss. The last thing he is aware of hearing is the darkness' laugh, it's purr a totalt mockery as it sends Killian back to the prison made of shadows. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued...


	11. Eleven

Her life has become one that is devoid of true pleasure, Emma unable to take enjoyment out of the things others would take for granted. Things like a hot meal, a brush through her hair, or even a soothing soak in a bathtub all have become luxuries that have been tainted by the dark. By the monster in Hook's body, by the evil that is fixated solely on her. 

It is no exaggeration to say the darkness is obsessed. That it is worse than any deranged stalker or rapist. It's something that was never meant to have a woman, something whose desires should have been limited to torture of a different kind. Of all the violence it is capable of and has committed, has even incited in others, the darkness is a being unequipped to truly deal with the sexual frenzy of lust. A greedy creature by nature, it has found the one thing it cannot get enough of, and Emma tiredly, reluctantly pays the price time and time again. 

She's been paying since that first time, from the moment she had tried to divert the Darkness' murderous intentions into something she could control. Trying to capitalize on the pirate's lust for her, Emma's had a hand in helping the darkness to form it's obsession. In her one desperate act to save her family with the distraction of sex, Emma has made a near fatal miscalculation. Because she hadn't understood that Hook as the Dark One, was something wholly different from Rumplestiltskin. Not realizing there was a monster that lurked inside Hook's body, Emma had set out to seduce the pirate away from Cora's murderous commands. 

It had been a mistake on a monumental scale as far as plans go. Because she wasn't dealing with just a man, but the thing that now coexisted inside him. And though Emma had been playing on the attraction that existed between her and the pirate, the evil had been there, and even the woman still wasn't sure just when exactly Hook had stopped being Hook, and instead had lost control to the darkness inside him. 

Control had been lost to all three, Emma losing control of the situation, while Hook had lost control of his body. Worst of all, the darkness had lost control of it's senses, stimulated in a way it had never been meant to feel. It had gone wild, greedy for the sensations it had found in Emma's body. Trying for more and more, eating up her every cry, chipping away at her energy, it hadn't taken long for Emma to realize she was most likely going to die. 

Only she hadn't. Something had ultimately staved off that slow, draining death, the darkness just simply stopping. Emma didn't know how it had known, or what had made it stop. But she didn't believe for one second in the dark doing it out of true concern. Nor did she believe it would hold off for forever. It was simply too greedy, too self absorbed, too cruel to not one day go the ultimate in too far. 

Her death is not something that can frighten Emma any more. Not when what she considers worse is the alternative of spending years as the darkness' plaything. But she fears for her family, is not so past the point of caring that she doesn't still love and care for her son. The devotion she feels to Henry, and to the parents she was only just starting to come to know, is a weakness. It's what holds her back from goading the darkness into finally killing her. 

Emma doesn't believe anyone is safe from the darkness. Not her, not her family, not all of Storybrooke. Even the queen, the red haired bitch who thinks she can control the darkness, isn't as safe as Cora likes to think. How can she be, when the darkness hungers for Cora's death most out of all? Cora might be making the biggest mistakes of them all, and even Hook with his earlier ignorance, can't claim to have been as blind as Cora is now behaving. 

Emma can't muster up the energy to so much as look forward to Cora's eventual death. It's not just her tiredness that keeps her from reveling in the idea, Emma simply isn't that vindictive a person even for one who deserves it as much as Cora does. She hates her, but even that much is fading, the emotion simply costing too much in effort to maintain. It's that way with most of her emotions, only her fear remaining strong. Is it the darkness that leeches away so much of her feelings, or is Emma just shutting them down, one by one in an attempt at defending against the dark? 

If it wasn't for her inner shields, the mental walls she constructs as barriers against her turmoil and pain, Emma would be crying a lot more than she already has. But she doesn't like the weakness of tears, and Emma doesn't want to give Cora or the darkness the satisfaction of such an act. Her trembling and screams already cost her so much, and Emma thinks truly crying won't accomplish much of anything. 

She doesn't know how wrong about that she truly is. Doesn't know that her barriers came down with the first of her true tears. And most of all Emma doesn't know that it was her that reached past the darkness to go down deep to where Hook had been drowning, locked away in shadows that should have been eternal. 

She knows nothing of what brought Hook back, but Emma can sense the immediate change that signals the Dark One's return. Hook's warning never got out pass the first syllable, his shout cutting off with a gurgle as though something had tightened around his throat. From her position in the tub, Emma sees it all. How Hook struggles and hunches over, his fingers scrabbling at the door frame. Where Hook is still somewhat human, the darkness itself has inhuman strength, powdery dust exploding about where the man's fingers had been gripping the doorway. 

Emma shivers, the display of strength a reminder of just how brutal the darkness could be. Accidentally or on purpose, Emma remembering a time it had nearly broken her wrist bone in a moment of anger. The sprain that had resulted instead, had been the darkness trying to gentle it's touch a moment too late. Her wrist still hurt at times, even with the Dark One using it's magic to heal her almost immediately after. 

Knowing it can and will hurt her, especially if she tries to run, Emma sits frozen in the bathtub. Her instincts are all out of whack, the voice that would have demanded she fight or run silenced to the overpowering response to hold still. But it's ridiculous to hope she won't draw the darkness' attention to her, and yet Emma still hasn't moved, hasn't mustered up the strength to at least get out of the bathtub. 

Not yet trembling, all Emma can think is it's too soon. She hasn't had enough time away from the darkness, hasn't had enough of Hook's far more preferable presence, and most of all, Emma hasn't had enough time to herself in the tub. Her emotions' barriers aren't as constructed as she would have like, Emma feeling as vulnerable on the inside as she is naked on the outside. 

The darkness might as well be naked too, for all the thought it gives the pants Hook had put on at some point earlier. Emma waits for it to cast away the garment with just a thought, it's magic capable of stripping away the clothing like they are mere shadows. Her surprise registers faintly amidst her fear and worry, the darkness doing nothing to undress, or turn towards her. Emma isn't as relieved as one might think, the woman not sure what is going on, except that it'll most likely result in something bad. Because it's always bad when the darkness takes time to think, when it actively plots and plans out it's next twisted demand. 

Emma is right that the Darkness is thinking, though she'd be surprised to learn for once it had nothing to do with the sin of seduction. It's still being cautious, still thinking about what had happened, the brief surge of power that had reach past the surface of the body it wears, to go down deep to where Killian Jones had been hidden. The darkness still isn't sure how the light had found the strength to reach that far, or if Emma can even do it again. And that makes it almost uneasy for it doesn't want to share the body with it's real owner, or have it's time with Emma be interrupted more than it already has been. 

For that matter it doesn't want to share Emma with anyone, the darkness annoyed, maybe even jealous that the pirate has had a few minutes of time with the woman. Jealousy of a person over another, is another emotion the darkness was never meant to have, and it's thoughts have taken on an even uglier slant to them. If the Dark One and Killian Jones had been able at this point to exist in two separate bodies, the darkness would have killed the pirate on the spot. Instead, all the Dark One can do is send Killian Jones deeper into the darkness, and wrap him up in inky tendrils that muffle sound and silence screams. 

And still the darkness is unsure where once it would have had no reason to doubt. Because something, the light itself, had not only reached through to Killian Jones in the void, but had held enough power to draw him out. The darkness feels worry for only the second time in it's long and immortal existence, and actually lets doubt form for a moment that is powerful enough to combat the lust it now feels constantly. 

It doesn't like the doubt, but it uses the ironic strength it gives, allowing the darkness to turn and face Emma Swan. There is still that strong sense of desire, the lust prickling along every nerve ending as it looks at her, sitting so still in the porcelain tub. Beautiful to the darkness even under the worst of circumstances, the dark finds Emma Swan to be especially delicious with her hair damp, and her skin that is above the water glistening. 

It's the doubt that keeps it from immediately joining her in the tub. Instead the darkness studies her, noting the way the gooseflesh breaks out on her skin, her arms covered in the tiny bumps out of a mix of cold and fear. She's staring back, unable to look away. It knows that to Emma Swan it is better to face something head on, than have it come from the back. That she thinks it's worse the anticipation than directly knowing when and where an attack will come from. 

The darkness can and has in the past, made all the lights go out in the room. Has plunged Emma Swan into total darkness, with sound her only guidance as to where the monster was. It almost does so again, but it doesn't just want to scare her. It wants to test her, to push her. To see if she can repeat the power that had brought Killian Jones out. The dark wants to know if it can guard against such an attack when it is alert and expecting it. Most of all it wants to make sure Emma never brings Killian Jones out again. 

With those wants in it's head, the darkness walks with a patience it is unaccustomed to where Emma is concern. Far to used to lunging, or using it's magic to appear before her, it's surreal not to mention scary to watch it stalk on slow feet towards the woman in the tub. It's gaze never wavers from hers, Killian Jones' blues eyes swallowed up by black. Those malevolent eyes see all, from the frantic pulse in her neck, to the way her breasts rise with her sharp, frightened inhale. The darkness grins at her, all toothsome smirk, as it considers just what to do first. 

Emma's right arm lays exposed on the side of the bath tub, a tension to it that is echoed by the rest of her body. It is the first thing the Dark One touches with Hook's fingers, trailing them and their nails lightly over her skin. There's a zap of energy, a slight jolt of static that is startling but otherwise harmless. The darkness pauses, but it senses no lingering energy there. The power that makes up the light's strength is ever elusive, the merest tease of it remaining, as the rest remains ten steps out of reach of the dark. Leaving the darkness with just the warmth of it, and the visual of it, the dark one unable to truly distinguish where the light ends and Emma the human begins. 

But just as the dark can't catch hold of the light's power, neither can the woman whose soul glows with it. Everything Emma has ever done with the power inside her, has been by pure accident, and even bringing out Hook had been one. Emma Swan could become the greatest force of magic for good there ever was, if she could only learn how to harness and use the power attached to her very soul. 

But there's no one to teach her at this moment, and accidents can't always be repeated on command. Emma has no idea of what she has done because if she had, she'd tried to do it again in a heartbeat. Anything to chase this monster away from her, get it to stop touching her with fingers that are turning harsh, digging into her flesh. The dark one can make it's nails sharp like claws, and it does so now, letting thin trails of blood mark her arm where it does dragging touches. The blood distracts the darkness from staring at Emma's face, Hook's nostrils flaring as the dark one scents the freshly spilling treat on Emma's arm. 

Hook's nails dig in harder, the Dark One encouraging the blood, getting it's fingertips wet with it before bringing it up for a taste. It makes a sound, a belly deep moan of approval. Emma's own belly cramps, and suddenly she is shooting up, unable to endure anymore. The water in the tub splashes violently onto the floor, Emma lashing out with her arms as the darkness grabs her by the throat. It's a choking grip, cutting off her air, and leaving bruises behind. Emma panics and tries to scream and gasp at the same time, the darkness brushing blood stained lips overs hers. 

She can't even jerk back properly, held in place by the hand on her throat. Her own hands beat and claw at the darkness' arm, the woman trying to get free as she starts to slip and lose her footing in the tub. Her struggles keep the water churning, the blood from her arm adding a pinkish tint to the soap bubbles that float on the surface of the bath. 

The darkness is choking Emma, actually bringing her to the very edge of death. Watching the light flicker and start to die in her eyes, the dark waits and waits, and still the pirate remains trapped. It is that that finally satisfies it, that ends it's caution, as it falls into the tub with Emma, and lets the water envelope them both. 

Emma's gasps repeat through the room, her breathing sounding loud and exaggerated as the darkness cradles her against it. Her eyes are wet, and she's biting her lip, trying not to start crying. The pain of her teeth stinging in her lip is the only thing that stops her complete and total breakdown to tears, Emma shaking and hardly comforted by the darkness' attempts to coddle her. It actually nuzzles her hair as though in apology, breathing in her scent with it's nose, as it places kisses along the side of her scalp. 

It's mimicry of a human's kindness, is blasphemous at best, and utterly heart wrenching to Emma. Because the darkness doesn't know how to truly be sorry, and any kindness it offers comes with a price that no one should be made to pay. Even now with it's false attempt at comfort, the darkness is lusting. Waiting only long enough for Emma to stop her panting, the darkness barely remembers what patient is, let alone how to be it. 

With it's lips still on her hair, the darkness rubs it's hand over Emma's bleeding arm. The magic works, the deep furrows made by the darkness healing within seconds. Not even a scar remains, the darkness not about to put a permanent imperfection on it's obsession's skin. The same can't be said about Emma inside, the woman hurt a thousand times over, and nothing the darkness can do, none of it's magic can heal the kind of damage the dark one does to Emma's heart and soul. 

A blight of the worst kind, a stain that seeps in deep inside Emma, the darkness will one day break her completely. Even as it cares for and maintains her, the torments Emma goes through daily are a test of her strength and her sanity. She'll break or she'll change, and then Emma will definitely die. 

But it's not yet time for any of those things, Emma hanging on, sometimes by slivers, and most of all because of love. The love of her family, and the fear for them. They are her strength AND her weakness, Emma submitting more and more in order to save them. She barely fights the darkness as it fists her hair. Barely tenses as it gives her searing, open mouth kisses that nip and pull at her bottom lip. 

The darkness has learned through trial and error, and a smattering of male instinct, just what to do and where. It has experimented with Emma, learned how to heighten desire. Most of all, it has learned much of a woman's body, and just where to touch to strum enough reaction in Emma. Even as revulsion courses through her, it's simply easiest to give in, to let the darkness have it's way in this. 

Emma lets her legs fall open, and leans back against the darkness' chest. She registers the delighted sound it makes, it's hand immediately cupping over her sex. It lingers there, and then it's fingers move, finding a pleasing rhythm to it's stroking, as it pets her over and over again. 

The water in the tub moves, gentle ripples stirred up by the darkness' actions. Emma is biting at her lip, stifling most of her whimpers as the darkness plays her body like an instrument made for it's command. It avoids the more invasive touches, content to just pet over the outside of her sex rather than penetrate inside her. Over and over, the darkness relentless, coaxing heat out of Emma with it's petting. That heat feels like a betrayal, Emma not wanting to feel anything, not even the arousal needed for coupling. She'd almost rather it hurt, than give in to the humiliating feeling of the false pleasure her body can sometimes find at the darkness' hand. 

Most of all, she just wants this over with, but knows nothing is ever quick with the darkness. Not sex, and not death, the creature making a game out of mastering slow tortures. Over and over, repeating endlessly, the darkness determined, and Emma realizes it's not going to stop. Not until it wrings out every last bit of her, the pad of it's thumb pausing over her clit. Then pressing down and circling, mercilessly rubbing and Emma's starting to really squirm. Her bottom's gyrating, pressing over the covered groin of the darkness' stolen body. It still hasn't removed it's pants, the soaked fabric straining over the Dark One's erection. The darkness' voice is a purr in her ear, a silky laugh as it enjoys the way that she squirms and dances on it's lap. 

Emma is fighting, trying to think of something, anything to stave off what is happening. But her right leg is shaking, toes actually curling, and the scream that tears out of her is more heart felt than any other that Emma has ever voiced. With her insides still clenching, the darkness plunges inside her, the pants never more than an after thought to it's magic. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....


	12. Twelve

Sometime later, when many hours, perhaps even days, have passed, the Dark One and it's captive lay resting on the pirate Hook's bed. The bed like the room is in shambles, the mattress half off it's frame. The wrinkled sheets are in need of changing, soiled in places, torn in others. Most of the blankets are on the floor, the cabin filled with a stifling, oppressive heat that makes it hard to breathe, let alone sleep. 

Emma Swan tries for it though, laying as far away from the monster as it will allow. She's got her eyes closed, and her back turned to it, Emma curling in on herself in a way that's hardly comfortable. It's an inborn instinct that drives Emma to make herself as small and as unnoticeable as possible, and it's one that doesn't matter in the slightest. Because the darkness is always aware of her, the light inside Emma bright and vivacious and drawing the dark one to her, no matter where or how she tries to hide. 

It's attuned to the light inside Emma Swan, drawn to it and obsessed with it. An elusive power the darkness can't grasp hold of, it can only be left with the lingering warmth of it, and the dark one doesn't even know what it truly deals with. But it wants it all the same, the power AND the woman that holds the light inside of her. Obsessed with possessing both, the darkness force Emma to bear the brunt of it's attentions. Everything from the perversions it makes of sex, to the false concern it shows as it makes Emma eat, to even the rough touch of it's magic healing her. Enduring it all, the strain still shows on Emma, and the darkness doesn't care enough to stop. 

It barely manages the time Emma NEEDS for rest, the dark one impatient. Restless and jittery, a nervous energy filling it that the darkness doesn't understand, let alone recognize, it has become an addict to it's lusts. Enslaved by it, enthralled by Emma and the near constant cravings she causes, the woman is very much like a drug to the darkness. One it takes no measure to wean itself free of, the pleasure of sex a fleeting high it is always chasing after and can never maintain long enough to truly be satisfied by. 

And yet it keeps trying, wild for the sensations and stimulations it does find inside of Emma's body. Where once it's greatest joys lay solely in the hurting and corruption of others, the great evils it was once capable of are ignored in favor of the woman, and the driving need the dark has to possess her completely. But even as it forces itself on her, holds her against it in an attempt to make Emma cleave to it, the dark one knows it doesn't truly have her. Not all of her, Emma's body ripe for the dark's taking, but not the essence inside her. The soul, the heart, even the mind, all things that combine to create the woman that is Emma Swan. The dark one knows better than anyone that the body is just a container, a vessel to hold the existence that forms an individual. Their strengths, their dreams, their personality, the forces that drive them, the wants that motivate them. Even the urges they strive to satisfy. Though the dark has affected Emma greatly, negatively, it has yet to change the very shape of who---what she is. She is still a person, a woman who would do just about anything for her friends and family, embracing the love she has for them at the cost of her own well being. 

Such sacrifice the darkness doesn't understand, might even be driven wild with jealousy because of. It doesn't truly want Emma concerned with others, the darkness a possessive creature who would and has locked Emma away from the world. Jealousy guarding her, refusing to share her with any other, the darkness wants Emma all to itself. It wants her as obsessed as it is for her, and it doesn't care how she gets to that point, if fear and hate is the driving emotions she feels when dealing with the darkness. It wants her every thought to center around it, wants Emma to acknowledge the dark as the only existence she'll ever have, the only companion she'll ever know. 

Driven by this obsession, with making Emma belong completely to the dark, the monster would destroy all that she holds dear. That includes her family, but Emma is not yet at the point where she doesn't need them alive as an incentive to obey the dark. It's not only aware, but understands her love for the humans is what keeps her alive. Her devotion to them, to their well being, is what keeps Emma from putting an end to her own life. Even as the darkness uses threats against them to keep Emma in line, it hates that such a thing is needed. The darkness doesn't truly understand, doesn't recognize that it's desire is such a terrifying thing, that the idea of submitting to it indefinitely is a fate worst than death to Emma.

 

The dark can't understand why it's lust is such an awful thing that is to be feared, even dreaded. To the dark, sex feels good, the pleasure it finds when joining with Emma Swan like nothing it has ever experienced, nothing it will ever surpass. It is pure ecstasy, orgasmic, and undeniably good. And the dark doesn't see why it's not the same for Emma Swan. It can't comprehend that she doesn't enjoy herself, that it's hurting her with every touch and kiss. The dark has no idea of the crimes that it commits, thinking the pleasure found is all that mattered. The dark takes and it takes, getting high off of Emma, not understanding why she fights it and fights the pleasure it is giving her. 

Confused by her, by the way she rejects the pleasure, there is another urge in the darkness that finds her struggles satisfying. A dominating existence by nature, the dark enjoys holding Emma down, in pinning her to the bed. It doesn't mind the fight in her when it knows such an act is ultimately useless against it. The darkness is stronger, it's will and desires ultimately prevailing against what Emma wants. The dark knows this, and so does Emma, the woman's every action done only when the darkness allows it. Everything from when she eats, sleeps and bathes, to even the things in between. It's constant, the darkness' demands for Emma's total submission, and this too plays a part in leaving the woman exhausted. 

The darkness doesn't once think to loosen the short leash it tries to keep Emma on. Fiercely controlling, it barely gives Emma a chance to breathe, the only time the woman truly has to herself is when the monster is called away by the one who holds it's dagger. That time doesn't happen enough for Emma's liking, every second alone a small blessing. The separation is nothing short of agony for the darkness, the woman Cora a nuisance it intends to one day kill. 

But even that murderous desire is centered around Emma Swan, the darkness barely able to think past the need to be with her, to remember it's vengeance. Or it's purpose, the people of Storybrooke terrorized only on Cora's whim. The dark so enthralled, so a slave to it's obsession, no longer bothers about spreading it's chaotic and corrupting influence on man. It's been crippled by it's lust, blinded by it. It's not outright tamed by it, but because of it Storybrooke owes a debt to Emma Swan they can never begin to repay. 

All but ignored by the darkness, the people of Storybrooke still cower in fear of it. In the evil it's mere presence spreads throughout their town. Conscious or not, the darkness is influencing them, making the bad become even more wicked, the good turn brighter. Even those that existed in the realm of grays, trapped as neither bad nor good, are changing. Bit by bit, crime is rocking the town, desires running rampant and acted on, the people out of control, while those pure of heart remain in hiding. It's not just an eternal night the darkness unleashed has brought to Storybrooke, but the total sum of dark magic, of malice and violence, of greed and envy. Turning Storybrooke into a nightmare world, where the battle between good and evil favors heavily the latter. 

To Emma Swan, the battle already feels lost. She's beyond tired, lost and without hope. She can't even dream of a future, can't believe something better might be out there for her. She is crushed, defeated, and at times her fight is nothing more than mere show, Emma lacking the energy to truly be defiant. She can't even hate herself for giving up so completely, Emma existing, not hoping for a rescue, or a chance of escape. Living only for her friends, her family, her son, and some day even they won't be enough. 

But that day is not here yet, a glimmer of resistance still inside her. Balking at her fate, at the idea that this simply can't be all her life was leading towards, the fight in Emma remains, sliver sized though it may be. The embers of her inner fire haven't cooled completely, they just need something, anything to spark them into blazing once more. 

She won't find the spark needed in the arms of the darkness, the monster with Hook's face smothering her with just about everything it does in it's obsessive need to possess all of her. It doesn't register that it's slowly killing off every piece of her, the darkness not realizing it takes more than seeing to basic necessities to keep a woman like Emma alive. She simply needs more than it can ever give her, the darkness incapable of human warmth, and nurturing love. The few attempts it makes at kindness are twisted at best, the dark a blaspheming mockery of what it means to be human. 

Existing ever since mankind saw it's first night, the dark doesn't truly know a human the way that it thinks it does. Familiar only with their fear, and with the ones who slant towards evil, the darkness knows only of their corruptible natures. It's ill equipped to deal with one who won't be seduced, manipulated, bribed or tricked, Emma Swan and her kind, a puzzle it can't quite figure out. But it tries, reaching a hand out to her. She stiffens at the feel of the fingers trailing down her back, Emma unable to control even that much of a reaction to it. The darkness touches her again, this time with the whole palm of it's hand, a caress that goes from the curve of her hip to down past her thigh. 

"Let me sleep." Emma speaks through the grinding of teeth. The bed groans in response, the darkness shifting it's weight to move closer to Emma. Her skin prickles in awareness, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing alert. She's still curled in on herself when the darkness presses against her back, Emma's skin crawling at the feel of it's cold flesh pressing against her warmth. 

"Sleep..." She grumbles. "I really need to sleep..." 

Emma goes silent at the finger touching her lips, the darkness making a shushing sound. And then it speaks her name, the sound more growl than anything, a deep rasping of voice that sounds nothing like Hook's. 

"Emma." repeats the darkness, and all it's desire to posses is in that sound. "Emma." Its lips touch her shoulder, kissing her in a way that should have been endearing. It is not, nothing the darkness does, no matter how gentle or how violent, can get Emma to soften towards it. She just endures, her jaw clenching as stolen lips brush over the pulse of her neck. The darkness can feel how it races, her heart rate quick to increase with Emma's dread and panic. 

"Emma." It growls again, twining clean hair around it's fingers. A harsh jerk follows that touch, the darkness forcing Emma's head back for it's kiss. It's lips fit together with hers, it's tongue already pushing inside, and in a spark of defiance born out of her desperate need for sleep, Emma grazes her teeth over that tongue in warning. Expecting it to laugh, or even get violent, Emma still turns to shove at it's chest with her hands. 

"No," She says, the fingers tightening their grip on her hair. "NO!" She shrieks louder, snapping teeth at it when it tries to kiss her again. A dark look of rage fleetingly passes over it's features, and then the expression is something else. Collected though far from calm, the darkness staring at her with it's soulless eyes. 

"You are strange, even for a human." It finally says, it's words so unexpected, so outrageous that Emma nearly weeps with her angry laughter. She laughs so hard, she can barely form the words, Emma eyes wet with mirthless tears. 

"And just what is so strange, that even the dark one would find it so?" 

"I want you." The way it speaks conveys how that want perplexes it even now. "I want you in ways I have never wanted anything, not even to be free." 

"Lucky me." The sarcastic bite to those words are lost to the darkness. 

Instead it gives her an almost absent minded nod of it's head. "You should be dead." The silver hook lifts, it's sharp tip being dragged lightly over her throat. "It should be nothing, mean nothing to end you." 

"So why don't you?" Emma demands, actually leaning into the hook so that it's sharpness bit into her skin enough for a thin trickle of blood to be traced over her skin. The darkness' nostrils flare at the sight, the monster moaning in a way that is all lust and impure intent. 

The sounds is frightening, Emma trembling, and then she screams. "DO IT! Be done with this and kill me already!" 

The darkness moans again, but neither it nor Emma press the hook to actually tear open her throat. An almost helpless expression takes over it's face, it's eyes staring at her bloody neck. And then hook is replaced with tongue, the darkness sealing it's mouth over the wound, actually suckling at the blood there. Emma makes a disgusted sound, and tries again to shove free of the darkness with her hands. 

"Coward." She spits out, but her brief spark of defiance is already fading. Because Emma knows she won't be dying on this day, and there is nothing she can do to change that fact that won't put her loved ones in danger. 

The darkness' lips are red tinted, and it seems to laugh. "In all my years of existence, no one has ever accused me of cowardice." It's smirk spreads slowly across those red lips. "Yet another first you have given me." 

Emma looks away from that smirk, unable to bear it. The hand on her thigh brings her gaze back to the monster, her eyes full of dread and despair. The darkness stares at her, fingers massaging the expanse of her thigh. 

"What do you want?" She finally whispers, but they both already know the answer to that. 

"You." growls the darkness, and it's touch goes from gentle to harsh, the monster using both hand and hook to pry open her thighs. "This and more." It says, barely reacting to Emma grabbing at it's arms. 

"You can't have any more!" 

"I'll have it all..." The darkness shrugs off her touch, shifting them both that for one second Emma thinks it means to just haul her down onto it's cock. "Anything and everything you have! Even if I have to devour you whole to get it..." 

Shrieking, Emma fights, twisting and turning, and the darkness moves with her. They struggle against each other, positions changing, and Emma finds herself sitting up right, with her legs draped over the dark one's shoulders. It smiles up at her, and the black that makes up it's eyes seem to glint with wicked intention. Emma's own eyes grow wide, shocked. Of all the positions and things the darkness has done to her, it has never tried to do this particular act. 

"Don't..." Emma says before she can stop herself. The darkness stares at her as it deliberately licks it's tongue over her, tracing the center of her slit from top to bottom, then back again. "Don't!" Emma screams it this time, grabbing at it's hair, trying to use that grip to haul the darkness up. 

"Sweet." The darkness groans in pure bliss and Emma knows it will never be satisfied with just one taste. She pulls hard on it's hair, actually tears out a handful and still the darkness presses forward, it's whole face nuzzling between her spread thighs. Emma screams, her body turning traitor, a response that is clinical happening as a tingling sensation follows the dark one's tongue. 

It doesn't take long for Emma to burn with need, the darkness relentless as it torments her in this fashion. Her body not only grows aroused, it becomes painfully so, her flesh covered in sweat, a fevered heat spreading through her as the very center of her body becomes so blatantly wet. She not only tingles where the darkness licks her, she aches, Emma panting, her chest heaving as she falls back against the few pillows that remain on the bed. 

"It can be like this always." The darkness suddenly says, then slowly circles that nub of flesh that is a bundle of pleasurable nerves. "You, me, we need not fight each other anymore." 

Barely able to think, to breathe, Emma cries out with a no. The darkness stops its teasing caress, and flat out laves it's tongue over her clit. Emma shrieks at the sensation, her knees jerking upwards to press against the darkness' ears. 

"You already belong to me." The darkness insists. "There is nothing that will change that fact." 

Through her haze of unwanted stimulation, Emma lifts her head. The monster meets her eyes, drags it tongue over her clit again and again, waiting for an answer. 

"NO!" 

"No?" It's knowing smirk vanishes, replaced with confusion and a frown. "No?!" It's raising up, her one ankle caught in it's hand grip. She tries to draw back both her legs, and the darkness comes with them, the one that is caught being pushed back against her body. The darkness glowers at her, bending her like a pretzel so that her one foot is almost by her head. The erection that it had been rubbing against the mattress, now presses against her exposed sex. Drops of moisture drip out of it's tip, Emma afraid and feeling even more vulnerable in this awkward position. 

"I am the darkness!" It screams at her. "I have seen the birth of civilization, have gifted and seen to the fall of whole kingdoms, have been the end of an entire race. I could give you the world, hand you this town and it's people on a silver platter!" 

Frightened beyond belief, Emma manages to whisper a retort. "Not impressed, and not interested." 

Hook's expression twists with the darkness' near incoherent rage, the monster forgetting all attempts to seduce, and impress and instead gives over to madness of the worst kind. Insane with it's anger, it roars a sound of a bestial nature, and Emma goes cold at hearing it. Any arousal the darkness might have forced on her is lost, Emma wanting nothing more than to get away as the dark starts to roughly push inside her. She screams and it screams, Emma trying to hit it, and not caring if it strikes her unconscious for her efforts. She keeps right on screaming, voice actually louder than the darkness own snarls. Even as it stares at her with hate in it's expression, the Dark one continues to rut inside her, more vicious than it's ever been. Emma keeps on screaming, pushing, fighting, trying to buck it off her with her body alone. All Emma thinks she's accomplishing is to make the beast madder, but she's wrong. Because something is rising up inside the darkness, and it can't seem to stop it, stop HIM, and the monster feels the man clawing his way out through the darkness, lunging towards the sounds of Emma's loudest screams. 

The darkness shrieks, unable to find the words to vocalize it's rage. Hook looks out through it's, THEIR eyes, and with an inhuman curse, the darkness wrenches itself free of Emma's body. She falls against the pillows, her thighs already bearing bruises. Her leg lowers, and she just lays there, staring at the darkness as it practically flies about the room. Screaming, howling, actually attacking the walls, the monster goes so far as to claw at it's own head, as though trying to get at the man inside it. 

"What the fuck?" Emma's question a mere whisper, is lost to the room, the darkness continuing to go ballistic. And then suddenly it is back at the bed, and Emma's voice fails her as that silver hook with it's deadly sharp tip comes down towards her. She braces herself for the attack, for the violent death Emma thinks she's about to be handed. The pillow behind her explodes instead, feathers flying everywhere, and Emma finds she is all alone, with neither the man nor the monster remaining in the room.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

To Be Continued....


	13. Thirteen

The dark as a timeless existence, has seen and done much. It has been the ruin of so many, countless millions murdered, whole kingdoms destroyed at it's whim. It's made playthings out of lives and happy endings, has set many a man on a course of it's own devising. It's been the influence behind every dark deed, been the devilish whisper in a person's head. It's been the corruption that poisons, has driven people to desperate lengths. It's caused the fall of more than one civilization, has turned it's lies into seductions. It's reveled in the dark chaos it brings, the pain, the misery, the fear. And not once does it's vast experience prepare it for the fury that grips hold of it now. 

Nearly insane with it, the sting of Emma's rejection doesn't just make it hurt. It leaves it confused, the frustration that the darkness feels nowhere near the levels of anger it now experiences. Infuriated by it, by it all, the darkness is simply incapable of understanding a human that refuses to be bought. It doesn't comprehend that it can offer Emma nothing of what she wants, that the woman will not be corrupted, and she will not be seduced. Not with false promises, and certainly not with threats. 

In this one way she is untouchable, the darkness unable to change the very essence that is Emma Swan. Her soul not within reach, Emma's thoughts still wholly her own, the darkness can't content itself with just a third of the light. Wanting her everything, the good and the bad, the darkness at it's desperate worst might just end up destroying Emma for what it can't have. 

It's already so close to happening, it's hips harsh as the darkness pounds Emma into the mattress. Her body fights this, SHE fights it, Emma screaming as she first shoves at the darkness, then starts slapping and punching at it's body. She even has the satisfaction of raking her nails down one perfect cheek, Emma's rape not as effortless as it most times is. Perverse creature that it is, this too it enjoys, the mood the darkness is in simmering with the need to punish and hurt, and a rage that might just be bordering on hate. 

The hate itself isn't much of a surprise. The darkness knows hate, has felt it's bite when it comes to the dagger, to the people who wield it, to the man who had once managed to cage it. Cora, Rumplestiltskin, and numerous others, and still nothing can prepare the darkness to hate that with which it wants and grows more dependant on by the hour. The lust that it feels, that sick, twisted dependency the woman has forced it to experience, breeds more than just hate. More than just need. It gives life to resentment, the darkness not knowing, not liking what it is becoming, what Emma Swan is turning it into. For the first time in an existence that surpasses millennia, the Darkness feels WEAK. 

It could and it should kill Emma for that reason alone. The darkness actually deludes itself for one brief moment that it can be free, that it can tear asunder the light, end the woman and the insatiable need she brings with her. For that one moment, it ignores her struggles, lets Emma scream herself hoarse as she breaks nails and skin, it's arm stretching it's hand towards her throat. It would be so easy, the dark tells itself, knowing the woman fragile, the light a fleeting thing that even she has no control over. 

A fleeting existence, both the woman and the light, the darkness knows what it must do. What it HAS to do. This weakness, this need, this lust that clouds all reason, MUST be stopped. Only then can the darkness be free, it's sanity and purpose restored. Or so it reasons, gazing down at Emma with a look that is truly as frightening as it's actions, the darkness' intent to hurt, to kill, alight in it's expression. Such an expression only makes the woman fight harder, and even the darkness can't tell if it's self- preservation or thoughts of actually wanting to die, that move Emma Swan into action. 

Her screaming intensifies, Emma's fists hitting whatever she can, whenever she can. The darkness shrugs off such blows, staring down at her with narrowed eyes intent on her throat. It doesn't stop it's grueling movements, the harsh pace of it's thrusting. It's truly an addict, unable to deny itself, unwilling to free itself from the searing heat of Emma's body. The darkness lies to itself as it hesitates, claiming to want to remember this moment, this feeling as something to be despised and ultimately conquered. The burning heat of a woman, the tight grip of her body, the way that tension coils within it. It's own stolen body is in a frenzied lather, and there's light shining in Emma Swan's eyes, a bright super nova that reaches into the darkness. That accidental use of it shakes free the pirate inside, the darkness feeling him clawing his way closer, and then the monster is screaming, abruptly pulling out of Emma Swan's body. 

With an inhuman shriek, the darkness go wild. Tearing about the room, it's feet barely touching the floor. It slams into walls, pounds fists at an enemy that is invisible. And most of all, it tries to drag the pirate out, it's nails and it's hook clawing at the darkness' head. It's irrational, it's insane, and there's an undercurrent of real fear. The dark doesn't fear Killian Jones on his own, but a Killian Jones that might have been empowered by the light? That might come close to terrifying, the darkness remembering Rumplestiltskin, remembering how the man had eventually figured out a way to beat back the worst of the dark. 

"No!" The darkness bellows, trying not to betray it's worry to the light and to the pirate. It can't, won't be made helpless, won't allow either one of them to so thoroughly defeat it. It's already turning towards Emma, when the woman speaks, a bewildered whisper escaping her. 

"What the fuck?!" 

And then it's there, by the bed, the darkness looming over her with it's silver hook raised. Now more than ever, it has to destroy the light. Has to stop the madness the light has poisoned it with. The need that it feels, the lust that Emma Swan drives it crazy with, all are weakness, and the darkness cannot afford any more of that. 

The pirate screams in his head, but the woman's voice fails her. The darkness sees the look on her face, the fright that makes her skin go white. There is a despairing gleam in her eyes, and she trembles but does not cower away from this attack. The darkness stares at her, and though it happens in just seconds, time slows to an eternity, the hook driving down with the intent to kill. 

With a snarled out curse, the pillow behind Emma explodes into a shower of feathers. The moment shocks all three, but the darkness doesn't linger. It's already teleporting away, reality splitting open, only to spit out Hook's body elsewhere. The dark expects the pirate to waste time with both getting his bearings, and with getting a look around. Instead Killian Jones surprises it with a laugh, a sharp sound that is as grating to hear, as it is mocking. 

The darkness let out a scream, the incensed bellow echoing off the broken down buildings that line either side of the street. The very dust off the rubble shifts in reaction, thick choking clouds of it stirred up by the power in that shout. Pebbles faintly click on the pavement, and somewhere a rat scurries, trying to scramble away from the monster that has made that sound. 

Killian Jones continues to shake, his laughter born not of amusement but of a hysteria that is twisted with relief. He's practically crying from it, and wetness actual stabs at the vessel's eyes. The darkness blinks rapidly, and shakes it's head from side to side, in an effort to purge itself of the man's tears. The laughter continues, and a single gloating thought is repeated, Killian Jones taunting the darkness with the fact it hadn't been able to kill Emma Swan. 

The darkness screams in response, trying to drown out the pirate's voice. Killian Jones keeps on laughing, and the darkness can take no more. It charges headfirst into a wall, the brick and mortar actually cracking around them. There's a groan from Killian, the brunt of the pain channeled down to his and his awareness alone. There's a stunned second of blessed silence, but the gloating satisfaction remains. 

"You couldn't do it." Killian speaks. "You couldn't kill her!" 

The darkness snarls, scrapes both hook and nails over the wall, deep furrowing trails being gouged into the brick overlay. Another rat scurries by, this one human, scrambling deeper into the dark recess of a building that is close to crumbling apart. He's not the only one, the darkness can sense other creatures, can scent their fear and wary interest, watching but not interfering. Weak and small minded, the lot of them are like vultures, picking over the ruined carcass that is Storybrooke. 

There is little good to be found among these scavengers, their hearts existing in the realm of gray shadows. Too dark to be good, too weak to be strong. They're the lowest of the low, victim to any predator that comes by. They're not even worth the darkness' time and attention, it's focus still inwards, riveted by the pirate and the threat that he could become. 

"You couldn't do it." Killian repeats around the pain. "In the end you couldn't kill Emma Swan!" 

"I won't just kill her!" The darkness screams. "I will destroy her! And YOU!" 

"Bull shit!" Killian retorts, but there is the tiniest glimmer of uncertainty in him. The darkness feeds off of it, a wicked smile twisting it's lips cruelly. "You hesitated at the last possible second! I felt you! When push came to shove, you flinched!" 

Irritation fills it, the darkness growling a warning in it's throat. Killian Jones continues, uncaring or oblivious to the danger, that wild hysteria subduing, giving way to a tired relief and a horror that is growing. 

"You couldn't do it."This time it is whispered out of him. "You couldn't bring yourself to kill the woman that you want so much. You're a slave to that want, to the lust she inspires. You...." 

"Enough!" The darkness barks over Killian's Jones' insightful ramblings. "I will beat this! Beat her! I will master this desire!" 

"Or it will master you!" interrupts Killian. There's gloating triumph to those words, but the darkness tastes the man's despair, his true fears. Killian Jones worries for the woman, for Emma Swan, and just how much more she can survive. He doesn't dare hope she can tame the darkness, Emma both a slave and a victim to the need that has alighted inside the monster. 

The darkness shakes it's head slowly, the words rumbling distorted out of it's throat."No one masters the Darkness for long." It smiles then, cold amusement gleaming in the oil black coal center of it's eyes. "Sooner or later, they ALL make a mistake. The woman will be no different." 

"She already is!" Killian counters. "You've put value on her, on what she makes you feel, on what she makes you want. You should have killed her that first time, but you didn't, made weak by her light." 

The darkness roars, a protesting bellow echoing down across many streets. Killian Jones does a weary smirk, but hope of any kind is in short supply. He just simply can't believe that an end of any kind is possible, Killian certain the darkness is here to stay. His one hope had been the dagger, but now Killian knows. The darkness can't die, and Killian Jones doesn't know the secret, actually lacks the strength on his own to even make a go at containing the monster. He can barely keep afloat, the pirate all but lost to the dark existence that has taken root inside his body. 

His concern his only remaining power, Killian Jones clings to reality through the strength of his worry alone. His fears for Emma Swan, and the staggering desire HE has, Killian not only wanting to set things right for her, but NEEDING to. 

The darkness understands none of what motivates the pirate. It is dismissive of his feelings, that bitter regret, that all consuming and ever overwhelming grief. It thinks the pirate weaker for those sentiments, the darkness snarling out a gloating laughter of it's own. Killian doesn't waste time on irritation, his mind mired in deep thought. The monster that is the darkness doesn't like his silent contemplation, a not entirely irrational fear easing through it. The darkness remembers Rumplestiltskin, remembers the man's strength of will, the chains that had been borne of cold determination and hotter feelings. 

Most of all the darkness remembers the woman. The woman who was nothing like Emma Swan, and yet she too had been a catalyst. The darkness remembers killing her, remembers the pirate's pain but also that of Rumplestiltskin's. A pain so sharp, so heart felt it had in turn driven the man to sharpen his psyche, hone it and his will into a weapon. The darkness practically shakes, remembering it's one fatal mistake, it's murder of the woman, of Milah, the very thing that had hardened Rumplestiltskin into a force to be reckoned with. 

Uneasy now, it hides it's fears from Killian Jones. Actually mocks and blames him for all that has happened, for all that has befallen Emma Swan. Killian Jones cringes, but can't outright deny it. It had been his quest for revenge, and his hand that had taken the dagger, and carved out a hole for the darkness to seep through. 

"I know that!" Killian snaps back, his lips curling. There's the bitter taste of revenge in his throat, the man practically choking on it. The darkness laughs and curls closer, ready to twist a dagger of it's own. 

"It's your desires that twisted with mine." It says. "Your lust that taints us both." It expects Killian to scream, to be so shaken by this, that the man is swallowed back up. "That still course through us, even now." 

"No." But it's not as strong a denial as it could be, Killian shaking his head. "I..I never wanted..." 

"Now who lies?" The darkness asks. 

"NO! My desires were never about hurting her the way you have! I never wanted...I never would..." Killian shakes again. "Things may have gotten twisted inside, but I FELT you too. You wanted from her, wanted to possess her in ways I can't even comprehend long before you...you..." Again that shaking. "Lust was in you, long before I awakened you to a new side of it." 

"But awakened in me, you did! And once that forbidden lust was tasted, it can NEVER be forgot." 

The darkness feels Killian sagging inside, the man metaphysically dropping to his knees. The darkness gives a wicked laugh, ready to shove Killian down the rest of the way. "I may have wanted to possess her, but you were the one who wanted to fuck her." 

The darkness expects Killian Jones to be defeated, and for a very real second he is just that. "You're...." His head lifts up, eyes now blazing with a determined light. "That may be true, but it's all gone twisted for you as well. She's all you really think about, all you want now. You may have control of me, but my very real feelings have made you WEAK." He musters the strength to smile, the smirk a strange distortion of the one the darkness is so often wearing. 

It's not the smirk that grates on the darkness' nerves so much as the words expressed, the darkness snarling in protest. But it can't escape the fear that the pirate is right, that the man and the woman have changed it, made it weak in a way it was never meant to be. And it does feel weak, by it's lust and by it's failure to kill Emma Swan. By the failure and by the traitorous relief that stirs through it still, the darkness secretly glad that she lives on, all warmth and light, and desire made real. 

The darkness digs it's nails into the side of it's face, the pirate's silver hook to his temple. Dragging both over his skin, blood pouring out of the tears, then healing, the darkness can no more dig out the weakness than it can the pirate, and it's frustration drives it's fist into a wall. Bones crack and break, and the pirate feels that too, the darkness giving him all of the pain but none of the healing magic that already works to fix the damage done. He strikes the wall again and again, and the building begins to teeter and moan, and still the darkness continues it's pummeling assault. 

Killian Jones cries out in pain, but that sound is not enough to satisfy the darkness. It wants him gone, wants an end to Killian and the weakness he helped bring. It keeps on attacking the wall, the building starting it's violent collapse, and then the dark one is pivoting on it's heel, calling the shadows to it. They wrap around it's body, sealing him into their black embrace. Killian is still screaming when the shadows roughly deposit them elsewhere, a sharp inhale of breath heard repeated again and again. It's a room full of people the darkness finds himself in, the shock and the horror mirrored in almost all of their faces. All but one, the woman who sits in lazy indulgence on an ebony throne. Her sharp gaze trails over the Darkness from head to toe, taking in the dust and the dirt, the blood and the nudity, and then she tsks. 

"If you are going to appear before a Queen..." The woman begins, and her voice is colored with annoyance. "Then at least remember to make yourself presentable first." 

The darkness doesn't dignify that with a retort, already lunging faster than the wind to the woman on the throne. To the dagger that lays a top one ebony arm rest. She quickly snatches it up, her voice ringing out a command that drops the darkness to it's knees. 

"CORA!" It screams, glaring at her, glaring at the dagger. 

"I will not have you look at me like that!" Cora snaps back. She hasn't done more than sit up straighter in her seat, her eyes blazing with just as much anger and malevolence as the Darkness is capable of. It's resentment worsens, the anger burning hotter as the dagger's magic takes hold of it, and forces it's snarl into a neutral expression. It's a twisted grimace the darkness wears, fighting against the magic, against the pretty smile the queen would have it wear. 

"Why are you even here?" Cora finally asks, one hand patting at her hair, the other still gripping the dagger. "I thought you'd be busy with your little..treat." 

The darkness feels Killian Jones bristle at that, and then Cora is slapping magic across their cheek. "I asked you a question!" She snaps. 

"The dagger." It grits out, and Cora actually rolls her eyes in annoyance. 

"Didn't we already go over this a dozen times before?" She asks. "I let you keep Miss Swan, and all you have to do, is every little thing I desire, when I desire. That includes forgetting about the dagger." 

"I NEED it." 

"The dagger is of no use to the likes of you. I, on the other hand..." A self satisfied smirk. "But if you're bored of Miss Swan already..." 

Somehow it keeps from rising to the bait, not willing to betray to this woman just how dependant it's lust has made it. Cold eyes study him, 

"You look like hell warmed over." She finally says. "It offends me. YOU offend me." She says, and makes a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Leave now. Before I decide to get creative." 

That gets to the darkness like nothing else she has said and done, it's voice almost cracking with desperation. "Wait!" 

"I don't have the patience for your nonsense." retorts Cora, and then another gets brave enough to speak. 

"Mother...ah...perhaps we SHOULD hear it out." Both Cora and the darkness turn their heads to stare at one Regina Mills. She blanches at the look they give her, but stands her ground. "It must surely be important." 

"Important?" Cora scoffs. "Do you honestly believe that? Or is it your conscience rearing up once more, hoping to spare Miss Swan even just a few minutes of time away from the Dark One?" 

"O...Of course not!" protested Regina. "That woman and her plight is the furthest thing from my mind. I couldn't care less what that creature does to her." 

"Hmm...." Cora still eyes her daughter with suspicion but ultimately humors her. "Oh very well." She says with a sigh. "Dark One, to what purpose do you need the dagger for THIS time?"

It's eyes immediately seek out the dagger, and Cora sighs anew. "Forget it..." She starts to say, and then the Darkness roars out it's answer. 

"I need that dagger to put an end to one Killian Jones." It feels the startled reaction of Cora's court, sees the wide eyed look Regina Mills gives. Most of all it hears Killian's protesting shout, the darkness erupting into wicked peals of wild laughter. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went from being a chapter that was hard to write, to one that didn't want to end. Though when I was having trouble with the Darkness Killian scene, I was starting to doubt I'd get to Cora and her court in this chapter. So I am happy I got them there. 
> 
> Also had some false starts with the chapter. My original attempts was Hook's POV, but then when they left the room, it just didn't match up to how the darkness was at the end of chapter 12. It was being too calm and causal talking to him. I wanted him wild and infuriated, insane and running into walls and what not. 
> 
> I also want to thank my friend Zerousy, for letting me ramble and whine over this fic. I'm still stumped when it comes to how to do the comfort aspect for Killian and Emma...but chatting with her is getting me closer to hopefully figure out that element. 
> 
> There's probably going to be a chapter at some point with the Blue Fairy's thoughts. Also may be another character to get some POV airtime, but I'll leave that character to be a surprise. XD 
> 
>  
> 
> \---Michelle/Lotornomiko


	14. Fourteen

His stomach gives a wild lurch in response to the darkness' voice, to the near maniacal glee the Dark One revels in as it reveals just why it wants the dagger. His shock seems to be echoed throughout the room, the people there gasping, exchanging wide eyed glances, a few even daring to begin a whispered conversation. And holding reign over it all is the darkness' wild laughter, the noise growing stronger in response to Killian Jones' shout. 

"No!" 

It's a vehement protest that roars out of him, and it is a scream not borne on concern for himself. It's for her, for Emma Swan, that Killian cries out for. For Emma, that he screams out a no with all he has left. His throat hurts from the force of it, but worst than the pain is the fear coursing through him. It's not his death that has Killian Jones fearing, but the thoughts of her. Of Emma, and of what will happen to her once there's no one to stand between her and the dark. 

Not that what Killian Jones had done has amounted to much. Emma's still been hurt, and she's still been raped, and the brunt of that blame lies within him. In what he had done, in what he helped usher in, the malevolent darkness being set free. Twisting it's desires with that of one Killian Jones, it's want and need of the light had married into a physical lust. It now craved the woman as much as the purity inside her, and was equally determined to possess both. 

Killian can only begin to imagine how much worst things will become, how much more abused Emma will be, should the Darkness take on a new host. Especially one that holds not an ounce of real feeling for the woman. He shudders at the thought of it, at the realization of how easily a new host will be swallowed down by the darkness. The same had nearly happened to him, Killian fighting, hanging on only by the sliver of concern that was his very real feelings for one Emma Swan. 

If not for those feelings, Killian Jones would have ceased to be ages ago. He would have let the darkness snuff out his existence, he would have given up and died like he was rightfully meant to have so many hundreds of years ago. But he hasn't, and Killain won't, ready to fight, to wage battle with everything that the man has got left. He'll not only lie, manipulate and scheme, but use against the darkness every bit of that relentless single minded determination that has seen Killian Jones through three hundred long years of life. 

It's just a mere drop of water compared to the amount of time the dark has endured, but while the darkness is an ancient and eternal being, it is very much new to the feelings Killian Jones and Emma Swan have birthed inside it. There's the lust, but there's also the jealousy, and that insensible, maddening need. The desperate dark wants everything from Emma, even the things it doesn't understand, and would have never imagined it would one day crave, let alone need. 

It's because of that dark, desperate need that has given it reason to let Emma Swan live. It's that same want of her that has the darkness maddened, the monster unable to put an end to that which both torments and delights it so. The dark laughs not only at Killian Jones, but at itself, realizing there is a sickness festering inside them both, and the woman is both the cause and the cure. 

Emma Swan is a weakness, an infection the darkness cannot carve out. Most days it doesn't even want to try. Blinded and besotted by the light that is Emma Swan, the dark cannot truly bring itself to go that final step too far. Tortured by her, by it's need for her, the dark fears Emma is the one undeniable truth. The woman the weakness the darkness can no longer do without. 

It shakes with it's laughter, and with the screams that remain trapped inside it's throat. Is that too the darkness, or is that some remnant of Killian Jones trying to worm it's way free? The darkness can no longer tell, too staggered and too hurting, sick with conflicting desires, and torn apart by the addiction that runs roughshod through it's veins. That poison won't ever bleed out, having found firm root deep in the core that makes up the being that is the darkness. 

That odd mix of laugher and stifled screaming takes on a mad, infuriated tone. It can't kill Emma Swan, it now KNOWS and recognizes that as fact. But Killian Jones on the other hand, is more than fair game. It's smile twists, it's coal black eyes gleam, as it feeds off of Killian Jones' panic inside it. 

Even as it bloats itself on Killian's despair and anxieties, the dark is extending an impatient hand toward Cora. Around the warbling mix of laughter and scream, the darkness again demands the dagger, actually fights against it's command. It takes a struggling, unsteady step forward, ready to throw itself onto the dagger's pointed tip. Does it matter that the hand that still holds it is that of Cora's? Not when the dark uses a host's body, the way a human does clothing. 

Even amidst panicking, Killian Jones realizes what the darkness intends. Actively moves to stop it with nothing more than sheer desperation. The push and play of Cora's command over the dagger, and Killian's own internal fight, causes the dark to actually stumble a second before the queen's magic slams their body downward. 

Killian hears as well as feels the furious sound the darkness lets out. It starts out deep in the chest, and comes to a rumbling end in their throat. It's not just the dagger that leaves the darkness impotent towards acting, Cora is using her own impressive spells to keep the darkness pinned down to the floor. Killian can't even lift his head up, but he can hear the sound of the court's screaming, people scrambling out of the way, many emptying out of the throne room. 

Gaston is not one of them. The black haired hunter stands calm amidst the chaos, his muscular arms crossing over his broad chest. He's eying the creature's struggle on the floor with quite some interest, and no one else but Regina Mills seems to notice. She frowns and briefly locks eyes with him, the man visibly shrugging his shoulders in response to the unspoken question there. 

Regina tries not to scowl in response, but Gaston is pushing his luck. Both his and hers, Regina thinking what it will cost them, who will be taken from her, should Cora learn of just who Regina was secretly allying herself with. 

With a barely suppressed sigh, Regina shifts her attention away from Gaston. She's glad Henry's not here to see any of this, and not just because the Darkness scares her. Her mother's infuriated expression is more disturbing than even that of the monster's, and not for once does Regina forget that Cora is a much more powerful and evil a queen than she can ever have hoped to aspire to be. 

That misguided woman Regina has once been, is long gone, awakened to the horrors of what her revenge and heart break have cost her. What it is STILL costing her. Her long buried conscience has flared to life, and it is a million moments too late for her. But she has to try, one way or the other, if not for her sake, than for Henry's. He can't go on living like this, Cora's magic blinding him to the reality of what is really happening in Storybrooke. 

Henry already lost to her, Regina can only try to make amends. He probably won't ever forgive her, and he definitely won't love her, but at least Regina can give him his birth mother back. She doesn't dare hope the time is right now, and still she has to try, Regina nerving herself to walk past the Dark One on the floor, and approach her mother's side. 

"Mother, allow me..." She doesn't truly expect her mother to give up the dagger this easily, and yet Regina tries for it all the same. She nearly gets backhanded by Cora's magic, the woman reacting on guarded instinct without any real thought to who had just spoken. 

"Regina..." Cora speaks in scalding tones. "You KNOW better than to try to take the dagger from me..." 

"Mother, I only meant to help...." Regina protested in a hurt tone she didn't have to do much to feign. "You're only one woman..." 

"I am the Queen of Hearts!" Cora snaps back. "I have survived more than what this leashed dog can ever hope to throw at me!" 

Regina eyes the snarling Darkness on the floor. "Er..be that as it may....even you can't wield the dagger twenty four seven. Allow me to shoulder some of your burden...." 

"We've had this discussion before. I will allow NO ONE to take this dagger from me. Not even YOU!" A pause, and then she growls low in her throat, perfect white teeth grinding together. "And certainly not you, Dark One! Though why you continue to attempt to defy me time and time again...." 

"It's all HIS fault." hisses the darkness. "It's all the man known as Killian Jones' doing." 

"Oh?" A drop of sweat arcs it way down the side of Cora's face, as the queen narrows her eyes at the Dark one. "And just how is that pirate to blame for YOUR actions?" She demands. 

"He's to blame for it all!" The darkness screams out. "Every last bit of it! From the desperation that I feel, to the lust that I have! Without him, it all goes away! He needs to be carved out so that this can all end." 

"Mother, it's rambling." Regina didn't have to feign all of her nervousness. Not with the darkness so near, and so angry. Even as the impressive combination of the dagger's compulsion and the Queen of Heart's magic held it at bay, the darkness continued to struggle, to fight to get up off the floor. 

"That it is indeed." Cora agreed, with a twist of her lips. "But there could be some truth to it's madness..." 

Regina felt her eyes widen with her shock. "Mother?!" 

"Killian Jones is clearly not agreeing with it." Cora explained, hers lips twisted into a malicious little smirk. "In fact, I dare say the pirate is affecting it more so than it is affecting HIM." 

"If you understand, than quickly...." Again a hand stretched in the direction of Cora, but the queen wasn't in reach of the dark. 

"You're a fool if you think I'd offer to become your new host." Cora coldly retorts. 

"Then..." It's cold gaze on her made Regina's skin crawl in reaction, and she inadvertently took a step back. 

"And I'm not about to offer up my daughter for your new body either." Cora wasn't smiling any more. 

"I will kill her." threatened the dark. "I will peel open her insides like a ripe fruit, and I will use every last bit of my ancient power to keep her alive while I do it. I will make her SUFFER a million times over, and it will be the pirate who gives me the strength to do it." 

"Mother....!" 

"You talk a lot for someone so powerless..." Cora spoke in a mocking tone to the dark. It was the wrong thing to say, the monster screaming, it's fury allowing it to lunge up off the floor before more magic cascaded into it. For one second, Cora's cold mask of indifference split apart, the woman looking shaken by the effort it was taking her to keep on subduing the darkness. 

"You're a fool." It said, with a low, empty laugh. It seemed to sag in place, but Cora didn't let up on her magic one bit. 

"I think I've heard enough out of you." She sneered. "Let's hear from the man, the pirate you claim empowers you so..." 

The darkness started to make a protesting sound, but it wasn't a request Cora has given it, but a dagger compelled command. In the midst of it's angry roar, Killian seized his chance, his words desperate as he spoke. 

"It's right you know." Killian said, hearing the way that Regina gasped. "I am at fault for a lot of it." 

"Oh, are you?" Cora scoffed with a narrowed gaze. "And just when did you get such power?" 

"I didn't." Killian retorted. "I can no more control the dark than you can." The Queen of Hearts hissed in response to that. "But I have made it easier for YOU." 

"What? Don't be absurd. How could you possibly have.....?!" 

"Where do you think it's lust for Emma Swan comes from?" Killian demanded. "That desire it has, that need, it's all my doing. Take me away, and what's left? Certainly not anything YOU can use." 

Killian could see the calculating look in Cora's eyes, the way the woman gave due consideration to what he was saying. He was unhurried, trying to sound unbothered and unconcerned. 

"By the same token, wouldn't that mean it's emboldened surge of defiance is in part your doing as well?" Cora asked. 

"Oh it is, but not in the way it would have you believe." Killian told her with his most charming of smiles. "Do you comprehend just why it wants, NEEDS me gone? It's not so it can have Emma Swan all to itself, or whatever it is you imagine. It wants the lust gone, wants the weakness that Emma Swan makes it feel purged from it's system." 

He felt the darkness seething in response, felt the hard truth of it's addiction to Emma and the lust that it felt. Most of all Killian Jones read the turmoil within it, the understanding that with him or without, the Darkness would continue to lust after Emma Swan and the purity within her. 

His removal from the situation wouldn't change a thing, and both Killian and the darkness understood that. Damnable creature that it was, the dark was right to have stated that the lust it had learnt, was a taste that won't ever be forgot. But it was one weakness that the Queen of Hearts need never be privy to, Killian nonchalant as he explained to her how the lust removed would allow the darkness to refocus all it's attentions on Cora. On the killing of her, and all that she held dear, and not even the dagger would be enough to stave off the darkness forever. 

He wasn't looking anywhere but at Cora, so missed the aghast expression on Regina Mill's face. "What are you saying?" She managed to speak with a choked out tone of voice. 

She was ignored, not just by the pirate, but by her mother too. "It all begins to make a twisted sort of sense." Cora mused. She then laughed. "The darkness enslaved by your lust...yes I can see that. No wonder it's trying so desperately to be rid of you....." Her eyes narrowed, and Killian felt her magic slap him across the face. The darkness felt it too, and with that pain, it came roaring back in control of the body. 

"You deceiving beast! Thinking to trick me! As if I would EVER allow you to be rid of the weakness the pirate has infected you with!" Fuming though she was, Cora still took the time to smile mockingly at the Dark One. "You'll NEVER be free of it, or him. I will see to it personally." 

"The man Killian Jones LIES!" The darkness snarled out. "I seek only to...." 

"Enough!" Cora screamed. "I have heard more than enough of your filthy tongue! You are not to speak to me, and not to appear before me until I have given you leave to. Is that understood?!" 

The darkness showed all of it's teeth as it wordlessly snarled, and then nodded it's head in a show of understanding. Inside it felt Killian Jones relief, the man actually daring to laugh with it. The Dark One's glower worsened, the ancient entity vowing to make the human regret it. To make both Killian Jones and the Queen of Hearts regret ever messing with the dark. 

Regina saw the look on the Dark One's face, and couldn't help but tremble in response to it. She was shaking with more than just fear, but disgust and anger, hardly daring to believe the pirate could be so casual about what he had enabled the Darkness to feel for and do to Emma Swan. What his existence would continue to allow, Regina thinking of Emma and the many horrors and indignities she must be going through. But Regina wasn't privy to all the details, and neither did she want to be. The guilt of what she did know, and of what she had allowed to happen, was strong enough on it's own to weigh Regina down. 

Much like Cora's magic was doing to the darkness, the creature with Hook's body scowling, allowing it's magic to wrap shadowy tentacles around it, and take both the man and the monster away. Regina was left staring at an empty spot on what was once the town hall's floor, with only blood as a marker for what had just gone on. 

To the side of her she heard Cora angrily shout at those that had remained inside her throne room. The Queen of Hearts was in a foul enough mood that their eviction from the court raised not a single protest. The villains practically fell all over one another in an attempt to be the first out the door, and amidst the noise and confusion, Regina again caught Gaston's eye. One black eyebrow raised in question, but Regina demurely shook her head no. He frowned in response, as though to ask her if she was truly sure. A more vigorous headshake was his answer, Regina all but glaring at him. There was nothing to report, nothing worth mentioning to the fairies that was worth the risk of their cover blown. 

Gaston seemed to suppress a sigh from across the room, before nodding his head in understanding. Regina didn't seem to think today's events worth mentioning to the fairies, and he couldn't truly argue with that. Not without something more being brought to his attention. The pirate and the Dark One's lust was nothing new, and it had yet to prove a weakness that would be exploitable to anyone but Cora, the Queen of Hearts. Gaston felt the deep seated disappointment that had birthed to life upon the realization that Hook was a liability to the darkness only because of the lust he made it feel, and not because of any true fight the pirate might have put up. 

Gaston and Regina didn't know how wrong they were, and wouldn't for a while yet. But there were others who had witnessed the Darkness struggle against Killian Jones out on the streets, others with less scruples and morals than the hunter, men and women who would be all too eager to tell all that they had seen for a price. Hope would spark when that happened, small though the flames would be. But it might just be enough to strengthen and lead good's rebellion to victory. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem only capable of writing in spurts. But really, I am grateful for every time I do get a chapter completed for ANY story. X_X Didn't expect it to be done this soon, but hey...got inspired! And yes Gaston was the character I hinted at in my author's notes for 13. I have been chortling to myself over surprising everyone with Gaston being a good guy in this! XD 
> 
> I remember being torn over whose POV it should be for this chapter...ended up sneaking in quite a few...but when I started this chapter this evening, I set out to keep it an all Hook POV. But then it didn't stay that well. Oh well. For the most part I am happy with it, except for my dialogue. I always feel like conversations are my weak point. =/ 
> 
> It's a little after midnight as I type this. Still go to spell check and proofread! Oh speaking of, I went and updated the existing chapters (Still have to do 13.) nothing major, just a word here and there. No matter how much I proofread, I always find a word missing, or the wrong one used. 
> 
> Probably get this chapter up after I eat! And eee! New Once season starts tomorrow! :D 
> 
> \----Michelle


	15. Fifteen

He doesn't know how long it has truly been. Doesn't know if it's only been a few minutes, or if it has been several long hours since the darkness had been made to leave at Cora's command. It's not just Killian Jones' own sense of time that has gone out of whack, but that of the town, of Storybrooke, and that of the sky above it. There's not even a sliver of moon to be seen, the twinkling stars that should have carpeted the night sky swallowed up by the dark. 

The pitch black sky devoid of all light makes Killian feel truly lost. It's almost worse than the prison, that black abyss the darkness has repeatedly tried to drown him in. Almost worse because it's not just Killian who has been cast into eternal night, but that of every single person in this town, both the good and the bad, and those that existed in the between. It's a knowledge that adds to the man's guilt, Killian feeling the burden of every man, woman, and child weighing him down for what he has helped cost them. 

It's not just the sky, that endless night that Killian Jones has played a part in helping to usher in. It's the feeling that permeates through the town, the fear and the evil, the good in hiding, and the rest preying on them and on each other. With hearing that has been enhanced by the Dark One, distant sounds ring sharply in his ears. Wicked laughter, and sexual moans, then screams and glass breaking, and the crackle of a fire that is the only source of light in these streets. 

The darkness allows the flames to burn on, the light the fire brings to this otherwise dark world tolerable for the very destructive nature of it. It eats back some of the dark, but scorches to a crisp the buildings and the people in it's path. Such wanton destruction the likes of which the darkness would normally revel in and encourage, and instead it's out here SULKING. 

It is almost laughable, the idea of a creature such as the darkness, pouting like a petulant child who has been told no. And yet that is exactly what it is doing, seething not just with anger, but with a deep seated resentment that is focused on Cora, and on the man within. The darkness HATES that Cora had been so quick to buy into Killian's manipulation and lies, but more than that, the dark hates that the pirate still exists at all. 

Killian can feel the hatred the darkness has for him, that and the resentment too. There's an undercurrent of something else mixed in with that abiding loathing, but Killian can't grasp onto it long enough to figure out what it is. The man would be shocked if he knew, that that elusive feeling is something existing between worry and a fear that is not entirely irrational. But the darkness remembers. It remembers Rumplestiltskin and how that particular host had once learned to not only contain the dark, but to suppress the worst of it. 

It remembers metaphysical chains wrapped around it, forged by a steel strength of will and a desperate determination, Rumplestiltskin had been the first of the dark's long line of hosts to ever subdue it. For more decades than the darkness cares to acknowledge, it had been lost, trapped in a prison of Rumplestiltskin's own devising, with very little of the real world reaching in to where the darkness had been. 

It's corrupting influence had been contained but NOT destroyed. Rumplestiltskin hadn't been strong enough for that. Nothing was, the darkness was sure of that. And yet it felt fear for what might be the first time in it's long and eternal existence. The fear was a bitter taste on the vessel's stolen tongue, and once again the darkness scowled with Killian's lips. It's anger mounted, it's impotent fury balked by the fact that Killian Jones was still there and still out of reach of the physical pounding that the Dark One wanted to give him. 

Seething with the physical need for violence, the Dark One prowled the seemingly empty streets. The feelings inside it were pure chaos and turmoil, things the dark normally reveled in causing in others. Now it seemed to only leave the dark distracted, for what other reason could there be for Killian to still be conscious? The pirate couldn't fathom a single one, and knew this time as something that should be savored, tainted though it was. 

Inside his own body, Killian Jones let out a sigh. But he didn't speak to the darkness, and neither did the man laugh. He simply waited, working to not only save his strength, but build upon it. Killian did not do this for himself, but for Emma, knowing he had to be ready, had to make it count when he went to stand between her and the dark. Not knowing if he could truly make any difference for her, his every effort would still be made. If only to stave off the worst of both the darkness' anger and it's never ending lust. 

That lust Killian had only had brief fleeting tastes of, and each and every time it had left him sickened. He didn't even want to think on Emma, on the time she has had to endure, but he remembers the state she had been in, and the bruises he had briefly glimpsed on the inside of her thighs. Most of all Killian remembers the look on her face, the despairing acceptance of a death that hadn't come. In that moment it hadn't been Emma who had flinched, but the darkness, the foul creature unable to put an end to that which it lust for so badly. 

If it had though? Well that was the point that Killian would have truly stopped fighting. He would have gladly let the darkness destroy him, existence no longer having any meaning left to it, when Emma Swan was no longer a part of it. He had no right to cling to her, no right to use Emma as his hope, and his meaning to life. But protecting her---no SAVING her was all he had left, the only reason to keep on defying the darkness, Without Emma, Killian Jones truly was nothing, truly nothing at all. 

It truly was an ironic twist of fate. The darkness wanted Killian Jones gone, but wanted Emma Swan MORE. Killian was baffled by just how strong that want was, the darkness desiring Emma so badly, that it surpassed any of the amorous feelings that had sparked and that Killian had fought against. That desire the darkness had, it only seemed to grow more out of control and dangerous by the day, the monster almost insane with it's need for one Emma Swan. 

Killian couldn't understand it entirely. Couldn't understand nor fathom just what else the darkness could want to take from Emma. This kind of soul deep possession was beyond the reckoning of a sane man, Killian Jones' brain not hard wired to want to own and control anyone this badly or to such an extent. It left him at a loss, and more than once did Killian feel the despair bubble up in him. But he couldn't give in to it. Couldn't allow that despair to give the darkness a foothold to suppress the pirate. 

Time stretched onwards, Killian Jones still left disoriented on just how much was really passing him by. The streets that had been empty, now held footsteps, a woman's high heeled feet clicking on the broken pavement. 

"Hey handsome." She called out, drawing near. The darkness and Killian Jones both went still, hearing her breathy entreaty. "Care for a little fun?" 

An outside observer, saw the body turn, saw the woman take in the sight of the darkness. She got a look into the ebony that gleamed malevolent in Killian Jones' eyes, and it was only then that the woman realized just WHAT she had approached. Killian and the darkness both looked at her, at the tight fitting dress, with the indecently short hemline. But more than that, Killian saw her through the darkness' eyes. His vision narrowed, the darkness seeing past the woman into her soul. There was a dull flicker in her that was almost swallowed up by all the corrupting black staining her. 

That corruption SHOULD have left her safe, the darkness having orders to hunt down only those good of soul. But the dark was short on patience and mood, reaching out to grab the woman by her throat. She gurgled and gagged, legs swinging, trying to kick at her assailant, but it was already too late, the darkness quickly crushing her throat. The faint flicker of her soul died completely with her murder, and the darkness was left to stare down at the body. 

"Yes." It finally broke it's silence, it's voice sounding too loud amidst the quiet of this particular street. "It is time I do have some fun." 

Killian felt the evil smile twist his body's lips, felt the terror blow through him as the darkness locked eyes with him. It was a surreal experience, and one Killian didn't want repeated. 

"What are you going to do?!" Killian couldn't help but ask. A deep, gravelly laughter that was his voice distorted, rumbled out as an answer, and then the darkness was taking off. But it was not to the Jolly Roger that they went, the darkness instead doing a leisurely walk through town. Chaos erupted in it's wake, the villains and the people who existed in shades of gray, affected by it's nearness, by the concentrated magic that seduced and corrupted, and spread it's influence. 

Killian heard what those affected people did, what they wanted, and who they tried to rouse out. They turned on each other as they searched for the good people who were the enemy of both the Queen of Hearts and that of the darkness. Quite a few people died for the darkness' amusement that night, torn apart by the more vicious of the criminal element that stalked Storybrooke's streets. It didn't seem to matter that the very people they fought and killed, had once been allies of a sort. They had all turned ugly with the dark's desire, with the suspicion it infected them with, with the greed it seduced them with. 

The town now on fire with it, the darkness practically purred in delight. The devastation and destruction might have continued for hours more, if not for the sound that broke through the screaming. A woman's very sexual moan, the darkness pivoting in place. Past the many rioting in the streets, the darkness found the source of that sound. She was beautiful, with chestnut brown colored curls, and pale skin. That skin was on display, her blue skirt hiked up high, a man Killian Jones did not recognize on his knees, licking between the woman's legs. 

It took a second more for Killian to come to the startled realization that he KNEW that woman. Sort of. He knew who she had been, though he had never had the fortune of acquainting himself with who she was now. 

Fortune was favoring the woman in more ways than one, and not just because the Sheriff of Nottingham currently had his face buried between her thighs. The sounds that she was making, the way that she squirmed? The darkness could see nothing but that of the woman's enjoyment, and the fact that she wasn't putting up a fight at all. It certainly couldn't see past the arousal such a sight was filling it with, not even to notice the odd state of existence the woman's soul found itself in. 

But Killian did. He saw Lacey's soul, saw how it struggled, how it fought against the gray the woman would have it be, to be the true white it was instead meant to be. He supposed it was some remnant of the woman she had once been, Killain knowing that as Belle, the woman had once been a very good person. 

He wasn't sure what any of this could mean, or if it was even important. Nor was Killian left to mull on it long. The darkness wasn't content to just watch, and already shadowy tendrils were curling around it, the magic gathering, and then Killian realized what it meant to do. He tried to scream out a warning, but the darkness fisted closed his throat so that no sound could escape it. On silent wings, did the magic bring them, the darkness and Killian being spit out into the captain's cabin aboard the Jolly Roger. It was dark even here, and yet when the darkness turned, for one second Killian was nearly blinded by the light. 

He still saw stars even after the light had dimmed somewhat, Killian blinking rapidly as the darkness strode forward. It reached out a hand towards the light, caught at shining gold curls, and then Killian was looking into the startled green of Emma Swan's eyes. 

She had been resting, Killian could see that now, Emma curled up on a cushioned mahogany chair that he had once favored, and wearing one of his tattered old shirts. Killian felt a fleeting sense of relief to see that Emma wasn't far gone enough to simply wait naked for the darkness to return. She had even run a brush through her hair, trying to straighten out the tangled mess the dark had made of it. 

Killian saw other things. Saw the ring of bruises around her throat. Saw the fresher marks on the inside of her thighs. And most of all he saw the way she began to visibly tremble, her hands already coming up to bat at the darkness that loomed over her. 

Her light gleaming a golden color that surpassed anything that Belle's soul had tried to be, Emma made a sound low in her throat as protest. Killian felt the way the darkness dug it's nails in her scalp in response, saw the tip of his silver hook be put to the top most opening of the shirt that Emma was wearing. She seemed to stop breathing, the shirt slowly tearing open, the dark purposeful as it teased and tormented them both with the halting progression of it's hook. 

Plop plop plop went each button clattering to the floor. The sound galvanized Emma into action, the woman starting to shift in the chair, actually fighting, when she let out a sharp cry of pain. Killian opened his mouth to scream in turn, that sound of Emma's leaving HIM beyond furious and wanting to hurt the darkness again and again. But there was no tangible opponent to hit, Killian just as thwarted as the dark when it came to vanquishing this particular enemy. 

He still screamed though. Still snarled and shouted at the darkness to stop. That it did came as a surprise, Killian blinking rapidly, not daring to hope that he had had anything to do with the monster's sudden stillness. And he hadn't, the darkness staring down at Emma. A frustrated look marred it's expression, the creature slowly letting go of Emma's hair. 

Her look one of the utmost in wary, Emma Swan held herself still as best she was able to. The darkness was still in close proximity to her, but even if it had been across the room, she would have still been scared. The Dark One was terrifying enough on it's own without the new look in it's eyes, the black that had swallowed up all of Killian's blue somehow coming off with an irritated gleam to it. 

Fearing the darkness was about to erupt into a new kind of violence, Emma braced herself with a gasp. The monster bent over her, placed both hook and hand on either of the mahogany chair's arm rests, and leaned in close. She watched it's eyes flutter close, the Dark One breathing in deeply of her scent. It was so close to her, that Emma could feel it's cold breath on her skin, chilling her from the outside in. Her nipples stiffened, not from any arousal, but from the fear and the cold she was now experiencing, the torn shirt open as a silk frame around her body. 

Lips cold from the brisk night air, the dark placed it's mouth on Emma's skin. She felt it crawl in response, the unpleasant sensation making Emma shift with the slightest of repulsed cries. A rumble of a growl emerged from the dark's throat, and then the curve of Killian's hook was fitted around Emma's bruises bearing throat. 

Made to hold still by that cold metal, the darkness began caressing it's hand over the front of Emma Swan's body. The palm of it landed on the flat of Emma's belly, caressing slow circles meant to be soothing into her skin. Killian saw how Emma narrowed her eyes in hate, her shaking becoming worse, the breath hissing out of her with a no. To that the darkness quirked one eyebrow in question, it's hand starting to stroke it's way up between Emma's breasts. The woman allowed this much without a fight, pure misery on her face, as the darkness bent to nuzzle it's lips against one cupped breast. 

Emma felt the unpleasant graze of both it's beard hairs and it's teeth, felt her stomach cramp in response. And then she lashed out, screaming out a louder, more forceful no, at the feel of the dark's eager mouth, cold lips wrapping around one fear stiffened nipple. The dark persisted, enduring the blows to the head and the feet that kicked into it's stomach, it's lips pursed and pulling. It's cheeks hollowed out with it's forceful sucking, Emma screaming wildly in a sound that was pure pain. Killian Jones screamed with her, actually slammed his fists up against a wall of dark, as he tried to fight forward for control. 

The darkness continued with it's suckling ministrations, rough fingers trying to find their way between a struggling Emma Swan's thighs. The screaming continued, Emma protesting, fighting, and suddenly the dark screamed too, pure frustration in that sound. Killian heard a harsh panting, realizing it was the Dark One fighting both it's temper AND it's desire. The hook was still curved around Emma's throat, the dark looking at the woman who was breathing just as heavily. 

Lust stirred in it, so strongly that even Killian felt a flicker of it. The dark looked at Emma, at her heaving exposed breasts, at the wet ring it's mouth had left around her nipple's skin. It warred with the frustration it was feeling, no one but the dark understanding why it was hesitating now. 

Emma flinched when the dark raised it's hand to her face. She expected to be slapped, instead the darkness was almost gentle, as it tenderly cupped her cheek. She stared wide eyed at it, felt the tip of it's thumb touch her trembling bottom lip. That rough finger stroked the soft skin of her mouth, actually traced the grimace that shaped her lips. And then it did the most startling thing of all, it's forehead being touched to hers. Emma stared into it's soul blackened eyes, felt it's mouth almost uncertain as it touched against hers. 

Frozen and in shock, Emma could only sit there, as the darkness tried to kiss her. Soft, gentle brushes that grew bolder, the darkness trying to coax out a more favorable response. A response it remembered, a response it actively longed for. It was in fact trying to get Emma to act much like the way she had that first time when the savior had been the one who had sought to seduce the dark. 

Emma didn't once try to kiss it back. Didn't once do anything more than push her hands against it's chest. Killian could hear a protesting whine out of her, the no sometimes vocalized as Emma tried to shift away. Suddenly the darkness growled, it's fingers hauling cruelly on her hair. Emma's mouth opened with her cry, the dark plunging it's tongue inside, all hot demand and harsh desire. 

A screaming was then heard, one that had started with Emma, that had caught on with the darkness, and ultimately ended with Killian Jones. The pirate took a step back, and so did his body, the scream continuing, Killian falling over backwards to the floor. Shadows seemed to be all around him, thick choking tentacles of smoke wrapping around him, restraining his arms and his legs. He struggled but was ineffective against the dark, the body contorting on the floor. His last sight was of Emma, the woman looking torn between her fright and her confusion, calling out Killian's pirate name before he was plummeting into a world of pure pain and never ending dark. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued Of Course!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! I am happy I got another chapter finished. I wrote most of it last night, but then it kinda derailed when I got them back on the ship with Emma. My darkness is such a pervy monster that it tried for smut when I hadn't intended to have anything really smutty happen. But I like the end result. 
> 
> I have to thank my friend Zerousy for always listening to me ramble about my ideas. I have almost three chapters in size worth of notes for this particular fic, and a huge chunk comes from my conversations with her. But also, she may have plot bunnied me for something the darkness does in the next chapter. I didn't spoil her with specific details for that particular thing, but it does help me with something that happens in a future chapter too. So yes, my note file expanded again! XD 
> 
> I may even try to start 16 today after I have proofread, spell checked, and posted this chapter. I'm crossing fingers for luck in that regards....I know what I want to do, it's just figuring out how to write it out that is the problem. X_X 
> 
> Laters! 
> 
> \----Michelle


	16. Sixteen

The dark slant it’s lips over hers, it’s mouth exerting a soft but unyielding pressure. It feels the answering tremble of Emma Swan’s lips, the woman putting up an uneasy show of resistance. She shifts in place before him, trapped upon the seat of the chair. In front of her stands the dark, still wearing the pirate’s body like a fine cloak. It’s all hard muscle, and taut skin, not an ounce of flab or fat to be found on the chiseled perfection that is the pirate enhanced. Already so handsome, the darkness has made the pirate into a beauty unreal. It’s one of a heart breaking potency, those curving lips that smile so seductively just like the pirate once had, but there’s nothing there that holds his rakish charm. Instead of the blue dancing with a friendly and teasing light, there is only that ebony that has swallowed up completely Killian Jones' eyes.

Staring into that blackness, a shiver of unease continues through the woman. With it comes the defiance, Emma so sick and tired of this thing, this monstrous being forcing it’s sick attention on her. She puts out her hands, places them against it’s bare chest and gives a hard push. It’s like trying to move a wall, so unyielding is the dark. When it moves it is not away but instead towards her, the darkness pressing into the soft palms of her hands. 

It’s attempt at a kiss continues, Emma doing her best to keep her mouth closed to it. It soon loses all patience, it’s fingers going to her hair. Tangling it around them, then pulling hard, the darkness makes Emma Swan cry out in a pain that soon turns to revulsion. Her stomach cramps and turns at the feel of that tongue doing a slow leisurely slide against hers. Emma hears a voice cry out a sound, a no and realizes that it’s her, the woman trying to shy away from that invasive kiss. The darkness pulls harder on her hair, presses it’s mouth so forcefully against hers, that Emma swears it is trying to crawl up inside her. 

A whimper escapes, a sound born on a scream. Emma lets loose with it again and again, her hands turning violent, slapping and hitting, using her torn ragged nails to scratch at that chest. The scream seems to catch on, the darkness bellowing with it’s fury, and fainter yet she can hear another, a voice no less angry, but muffled somehow. She locks eyes with the dark, swears she sees just a hint of Killian Jones' blue, and then the man—the body, is falling back, with screams that are entirely belonging to the pirate filling the bedroom.

Left situated on the chair as she is, Emma can only watch as the pirate’s body bends back in an unnatural manner. He screams louder yet, contorts into another unnatural position, his arms and his legs tensing with their struggle against invisible chains. Emma doesn't understand any of this, doesn't know what is going on or why. And yet for all her confusion, all her fear and upset, she feels a tiny sliver of soft emotion birth to life inside her. 

Concern.

It’s alight and alive inside her, and oh so alien a feeling to the woman who has been slowly trying to strip herself of all feeling. That one sliver of concern nurtures to life a wide and varied multitude of feeling, tears pricking at her eyes but not yet falling, as Emma screams again, this time with a voice meant all for the pirate.

“Hook!”

The pirate hears her, but he’s not the only one. The dark is there too, digging claws deeper and deeper into Killian’s Jones’ body. For each of it’s irritations, it’s anger, and the jealousy it now feels, the darkness makes Killian Jones hurt. Such is it’s fury, that claw marks literally appear on the pirate’s body. Deep, violent gouges, that run the floor red with the pirate’s blood, Killian screaming, and it’s not just the claws that the darkness is using. It’s shadows gather inside Killian, taint the very air, make him choke with his every effort to breathe. The darkness hurts Killian, and just when the pirate thinks it can get no worse, the darkness scrapes claws across his scalp.

Killian screams in pain as he is swallowed up by the dark. That monstrous entity of pure evil, curls around him, uses shadowy tendrils to wind about his ankles and wrists, holding him suspended over a lake of pure inky darkness. It’s got him upside down, the darkness appearing before him, the monster face to face with the man whose body it has stolen. Killian doesn't even notice, doesn't even seem to register the feel of those rough, claw tipped hands taking firm hold of his head.

The darkness stares at him, and once again finds Killian Jones weak and lacking. 

“So then why.” The darkness growls inside of him. “Why?” Claws scrape along Killian’s scalp, looking for a way in. It can hear Emma’s voice, hear her crying out and it’s not just fear. There’s a new thread of emotion in her voice, a concerned feeling that the darkness doesn’t at all like.

It’s not just the emotion that bothers it. EVERYTHING does. From Emma’s fight, to her refusals, to the fact that she never smiles anymore. It can remember her smile, that dazzling expression, that made the light shine in Emma’s eyes. It remembers more than just the smile, it remembers a TIME. That magical, wonderful time, it’s sweet, enticing kisses and the woman’s firm and arousing touch. Of her breathless invitation, Emma’s hands caressing, here, there, everywhere, and it had been nothing like the darkness had ever felt, or had ever before wanted. Desire had alighted inside it, a strong, seething, sexual force of energy that the dark had been helpless against to resist. 

Not that it had made much effort to try. A greedy, grasping creature by nature, the entity known as the dark had reveled in the lust coursing through it, in the desperate want filling it. The dark had let Emma Swan work it up into a frenzy, had let itself become dazzled by not only her light but by the very woman herself. It had learned the firm feel of her hand, had felt the caress of her fingers, and had been bathed in the warmth of her mouth. The dark had lost itself inside her, had buried itself as deep as it could reach, and still it hadn't been enough. Her light had remained untouched, the gold of it shining bright and tantalizing, and always lingering just out of reach.

The dark doesn't know exactly what the light inside of Emma Swan is, but it has wanted it all the same. Has from that first blinding moment, the dark branded by it, by the light that is Emma Swan. The light on it's own had made the dark covet, that ancient evil wanting to seize that golden goodness for it's own. 

From the first moment that the dark had laid eyes on the blinding light, it has known desire. Has known a lust so fierce it fists tension tight inside it. It is pure, driving need that the dark has of the light, a lasting obsession that even it cannot hope to truly understand, the darkness had been damned long before it had discovered the woman inside the light.

That moment it remembers too. How it had caught at the light with it's hand, how that dazzling display had twisted and fought. It's open defiance had caused irritation to flare inside the darkness, that ancient evil growling, shaking the light, actually squeezing down on it. The light had made a sound, a choked off protest that had went ignored, the dark staring, watching as that brilliant being began to flicker and die. It was then that the darkness had seen her, had seen the woman who had housed the light inside of her.

Her eyes had shone a fierce green color that seemed to pierce through the darkness, to the man inside. While the darkness had toyed with the light, with it's power over it, the man had gazed out, had stared at the woman with a frantic desperation that once would have been enough to leave the dark laughing in response to the soft, weak feelings churning inside of one Killian Jones. That it hadn't was simply a sign of how distracted the dark was by the light, by the desire growing inside it. It had stared down at the light in it's grasp, had watched that beacon of purity fight and flicker much the way the woman had, and it had realized then that both were DYING before it.

But the true death never came, the darkness hesitating. The flicker of uncertainty it experienced was wholly it's own. It stared at the woman, at the inner light of her soul, that brightness struggling, flaring blinding for one defiant moment. Then the dark's grip had tightened, the light dimming so low that something inside the dark had protested with a desperation nearly to rival Killian Jones' own.

The dark wasn't used to such a feeling birthing inside it. A greedy, grasping creature by nature, the darkness should have been content to snuff out the light. But it had wanted too strongly, the madness of lust already upon it, the dark one wanting to own, to control, to so thoroughly posses. Infected with desire long before Emma Swan had first touched it in tender seduction, the darkness had been all but doomed by her smile.

As bright and dazzling as the power, the light, that lived on inside her, Emma Swan herself had truly been breathtaking. With her long golden hair, the bright jade of her eyes, and the soft pink of her lips curved in the sweetest of smiles the dark had been utterly enthralled. Emma Swan's hands upon it had laid the trap meant to ensnare, the woman caressing heat and a new kind of prickling awareness inside it.

The want had fisted tight inside it, had nearly brought the dark to it's knees. Emma Swan had maintained her glorious smile, her own hands soft and eager as she teased and tormented the dark with her touch upon it. Tension had coiled within it, a need the dark had not wholly understood infecting it. 

Her every touch spread the infection, Emma Swan's lips a sweet, intoxicating poison the darkness could not resist. The lust that had spiked through it, had been burning the dark's skin, making it crazed. The light that was Emma Swan had consumed the dark, changing it's very nature, it's needs. With just one taste, the darkness had become undone, wild for more. 

Seeing no reason to deny itself or hold back, the dark had went wild with it's need. It had kissed Emma Swan back, had dug harsh fingers into soft, trembling skin, had used it's hook to tear at the woman's clothing. Killian Jones had done the next, paving the way for the darkness to learn. With the lust thrumming through them both, stealing all sane thought and reason from their heads, the dark had learned just where to touch a woman and how.

Armed with that knowledge, and bolstered by the sweetest of sighs, the darkness had discarded Killian Jones for the tool that he had been. Had Emma Swan even noticed? Had she even cared? Or has she been just as lost as any of them, the lust setting Emma Swan on fire, making her burn with an itch that hadn't mattered with just by who it had been scratched?

It's all questions that the darkness has hesitated to answer, to even think much about. It has run from the truth, from the harsh reality of just WHO Emma Swan had really been giving herself to on that night. In some ways it still did, the dark hesitating yet. Emma’s voice from somewhere in the distance, the concern threading through it, made the decision, the darkness tearing into Killian’s mind, and making it hurt.

Pain spikes, and the darkness surges through it, searching deeper, deeper, looking for that one bit of coherency that remains. It’s claws twist and tear, make Killian scream even more, the darkness ripping past his thoughts, into his many memories. There’s over three hundred years worth to sift through, the darkness roughly picking through and discarding through moments, experiences, people. 

Killian Jones continues to scream, every memory grazed over hurting him, the darkness using him like an open book. Flipping the pages of his memories, until a gleam of gold catches his eyes, and words come out into the air.

“I was hoping it would be you.”

The darkness only half listens, entranced by the sight of the Emma Swan of Killian’s memories. The bold red of her tight fitting jacket, the jeans that stick and shape to her rear. The blonde hair that gleams even lighter in the daylight, the woman’s beauty thriving beneath the bright sun’s light. 

She looks at the pirate as she approaches, and her eyes aren't so much wary, as downright suspicious. There’s no trust to be had there, but there’s also no fear, the woman not so much cowering as she steps towards the grinning pirate.

“Just get on with it.” She starts to say, then frowns when his fingers catch around her wrist. There’s a slight tug of resistance, the woman trying to pull free even as the pirate forces her hand to rest on his shoulder.

“Just put your hand right here. That’s a good girl.” He says it in a patronizing tone, his fingers petting over the back of Emma Swan’s hand in a propriety manner. Emma Swan seems to take in his leer, then rolls her eyes to look away. The Darkness then notices three other women standing several feet away, sharing a disgusted look.

The snapping of a cuff in place, draws the darkness and Emma back towards the pirate. “This will allow you to climb.” Killian hardly seems bothered by the way Emma snatches back her hand. “There are other dangers though. Thankfully you've got me to protect you.” It’s then that the dark notices the stump where the pirate’s hook should have been. “I can't climb one handed, can I?”

“Don’t think I am taking my eyes off you for a second!” The Swan woman says, as she reluctantly hands the curved metal over to the pirate. He easily clicks it into place, and stares into her eyes, with another entreating smile.

“I would despair if you ever did.”

 

“Let’s go.” She snaps, shoving a bag roughly at him. He’s still smiling, looping it’s strap across his shoulder, even as the woman begins her attempt at climbing a nearby beanstalk. The pirate watches her for a second, his gaze lingering on her behind as Emma Swan starts to get a head start up the beanstalk. 

The pirate talks the entire way up, easily maintaining a conversation as the pair climbs higher and higher towards the sky. There’s not an exaggerated breath out of him, the pirate in good shape, and managing with a one handed ease many would envy. Including the woman, Emma Swan panting, her voice breathless with her exertions. That sound makes the darkness react, it’s claws curling on the memory, Emma’s exhausted voice not that different from her sexual one. 

Such is the effect that sound has on the darkness, that it barely takes note of the words being said. It’s too busy staring at Emma, watching as she tries to ignore the pirate and not fall off the beanstalk at the same time. This doesn't seem like a memory worth noting, the woman cold and indifferent to the pirate. Not that Killian seems to care, the man keeping on with his banter, and soon the conversations turns serious.

“You’re something of an open book.”

“Am I?” She asks in a distracted manner.

“Quite.” confirms the pirate, grinning down at her. She manages to pull herself up so that they are nearly side by side, and still she won’t even look at him. “You volunteered to come up here because you were the most motivated. You need to get back to a child.”

“That’s not perception, that’s eavesdropping.” Emma responds in a breathless but calm manner.

“And you don't want to abandon him the way that you were abandoned.” Killian continues.

“Was I?” She has an unconcerned tone that doesn't fool the pirate for even a second.

“Like I said, open book.”

Now she finally looks at him, the jade of her eyes alarmed. “How would you even know that?!”

“I spent many years in Neverland, home of the lost boys, and they all share the same look in their eyes. The look you get when you've been left all alone.” She tries to dismiss what he is saying but the pirate merely counters with the following. “But an orphan is an orphan.” He says. “Love has been all too rare in your life, hasn't it?” His eyes narrow with a new thought. “Have you ever even been in love?”

Emma Swan stares at him for a long moment, and then the lie easily slips off her tongue. “No, I've never been in love...” She resumes her attempts at climbing, and soon is up over the pirate’s head. This time he tries not to be distracted by the view, the woman in a hurry to leave him and the conversation behind. The rest of the way upwards is spent in relative silence, Emma Swan doing her best to keep ahead of the pirate at all times.

The Dark One lets the course of the memory play out. Is there when at the top of the beanstalk, the pirate tends to the woman’s wound. She’s defiant, and the pirate is trying too hard to be charming and seductive, using his teeth and his lips to tug and pull on the makeshift cloth bandage that he has wrapped around Emma Swan’s injured hand. They hold eye contact as he does this, the pirate radiating a kind of smugness that the woman doesn't appreciate. Any more than she seems to appreciate his plans, the woman dismissing the scheme for one of her own.

 

“You'd make one hell of a pirate.” The man says with blatant admiration in his voice. Anything she might have said to that is lost, Emma Sawn noticing the name tattooed on the pirate’s arm.

“Whose Milah on the tattoo?” She asks, and the pirate instantly sobers. 

“Someone from long ago.” A memory within a memory, the pirate of the past remembering, thoughts forming of the woman with the long, black hair, the female that the darkness itself had once enjoyed killing. It doesn't want to remember that now though. Doesn't want to waste it time on memories that do not bring it any closer to understanding Emma Swan and the answer that it seeks. It abandons this memory, literally fast forwards through the pirate’s mind, searching, searching, and picking out the occasional moment to examine. 

“You know what this is, Emma?” Killian has held up a tiny, dried out husk.

“It’s the bean that the giant kept.” She makes a grab for it, but the pirate pulls it just out of her reach. 

“Ah ah ah.” He says it in a taunting tone, smirking as he watches the frustration boil over in Emma’s expression. “Yes indeed. A pirate always keeps a souvenir of his conquest. But this…? This is much more than a mere trinket. This is a symbol.” He smiles and wraps the leather tong that the bean is secured to around his hand.

“Something that was once magical, full of hope, possibility. Now look at it. Dried up, dead, useless...much like YOU.” The darkness sees that look in Emma’s eyes has no effect on the pirate. “The time for making deals is done.” Killian says, stepping back. “Just as I am done with you.”

Emma Swan doesn't so much as cry out, doesn't even try to shake and rattle the heavy door of the cage she finds herself trapped in. It’s the darkness that’s left puzzled, not understanding. It in no way feels as reassured as it should, the cold feelings that seem to exist between the woman and the pirate at odds with the way the woman had once acted. With that thought, the darkness flits back and forth from it’s memories and Killian’s, trying to figure it out, to understand the Emma Swan it had briefly had that euphoric taste of.

She certainly wasn't there at Lake Nostos, not when fighting for her life and her family against the pirate and the hated sorceress. Oh there was a kind of passion in her desperation, but it never came close to the passion that was in Emma Swan’s seduction. She met blow for blow with her sword and her fist, fighting and kicking, and ending up on her back for her efforts. 

Her sword still in her hands, the pirates lands on top of her, to straddle Emma Swan’s hips. His hook and his sword lock around her blade, the man slowly sliding them along it as he forces her arms down.

“Normally I prefer to do other, more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back.”

Emma is glaring up at him, her soft panting making her breasts rise and heave against the straining fabric of her jacket. The pirate smiles down at her, a cheeky twist of his lips, his voice a lascivious tone as he continues. “With my life on the line, you've left me no choice. Bit of advice...” He was bent over her, practically breathing into her face as he purred. “When I jab you with my sword, you'll feel it.”

Her eyes widen at that, her one hand busy on the dry sand beneath her. “You might want to quit...” The pirate advises.

“Why would I want to do that?” Emma asks in an absolutely breathless tone that screams of pure sex and promise to the darkness. “When I’m winning?” She holds something up, and the pirate glanced away to look down at it. The Dark One sees that it is a compass of some kind, it’s tarnished gold an insignificant gleam next to Emma Swan’s own smile.

The smile is not what distracts the pirate, but it doesn't matter. Emma kicks out with her legs, bodily shoves the pirate off of her with her hands. He rolls to his feet, and they both come up swinging, swords in hand. Those metal blades clash together, and Killian’s effortless strength pushes her blade down. She smiles ever so sweetly at him, murmurs her thanks, and then? Then Emma Swan cold cocks him in the head with the compass.

The last words Killian Jones hears, before falling into the dark is that of a commanding Emma impatiently shouting, “Now let’s go home!” She shows no concern for the pirate then, quick to leave him without so much as a second glance, second thought. For that matter, when the pirate does at last awaken, he’s not sparing much thought to Emma either. He doesn't for a while. The darkness impatiently tears through his memories, watching it’s previous host do battle with the pirate, a different woman being caught between both. 

It was there, at the outskirts of town, that the pirate had made his move. A loud shot of sound rang out, a gasp being heard, as the brown haired woman’s body had jerked forward. Rumplestiltskin had called out her name, catching her in his arms, as some kind of curse magic rippled through her. The darkness saw the pain and misery on it’s former host’s face, heard him cry out about how what the pirate had done could never be undone. Most of all the darkness felt and reveled in the pirate’s own malicious satisfaction, Killian Jones shouting at Rumplestiltskin about how he now knew how it felt.

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes had almost given way to the darkness. Almost but not quite, the man still having had enough presence of mind to keep the monster inside tightly confined. It hadn't stopped the fireball from forming, from the previous host preparing to blast the pirate into a charred mess of ash and cinders. It also hadn't stopped the car from coming, from careening past the dark one’s former host, and slamming into the pirate.

Pain came with that memory, pain spiking worse every time the pirate tried to laugh. Somehow others came upon the scene, people rushing about the chaotic area. The pirate could hear their voices, but couldn't turn to look and see what was happening. And then a familiar and surprised voice had called out his name.

“Hook?!”

He opened his eyes, and in the darkness saw her, her hair like a halo of light around her face. “Hey beautiful.” He had said with as big and bright a smile as he could manage given the pain that he had been in.

She had looked down at him with complete shock and amazement, Emma Swan hardly daring to believe her eyes. The pirate had kept right on smiling, right until she had dropped down and had started feeling up the sides of his body. 

It was not a gentle touch. It was a determined one, Emma having been quick to ascertain the extent of the pirate’s injuries. “Your ribs are broken.” She had said in an exasperated tone.

“It doesn't matter.” Killian had been quick to dismiss her concerns. “It only hurts when I laugh.” He had tried then, to do just that. “Did you see his face? His true love gone in an instant! Just like Milah, eh crocodile?” He had tried to shrug off Emma’s hands in his attempts to get up at Rumplestiltskin’s approach. “When you took her from me!”

“Oh but you took her FIRST.” Rumplestiltskin had countered with a violent swing of his cane. That expensive walking stick had slammed into the pirate’s face, knocking him over onto his back on the harsh gravel of the road.

A whole lot of screaming had followed, the darkness watching as Emma Swan and another man had interfered with Rumplestiltskin’s attempt to beat the pirate to death. The darkness had watched it all, drinking in every detail from the look of worry in Emma Swan’s eyes, to the desperate words she had spoken. It still wasn't anywhere close to what the darkness was searching for, but it continued to pry. Past the encounters in the hospital, to the sheriff’s station, and then to the safe house. It saw how much Emma Swan sacrificed to keep Killian Jones safe. Everything from time with her family, to the chance to learn how to harness and actually use her light magic, Emma instead spending time with the pirate in protective police custody. 

It was there during that time, that the first seeds of true feelings had begun to form. That an attraction had ignited, one that both Emma and the pirate had danced around to avoid. The smoldering embers of it, had all but exploded, the night Emma and then Killian had given in to desperation. 

The darkness’ claws went still with it’s realization. With the confirmation that Killian Jones’ memories had now given it. It looked at Emma though Killian’s eyes, saw the memory of that night as the pirate had experienced it, and then screamed. 

 

To be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I hate this chapter for the most part. It was going well till I started trying to do cannon scenes in brief flashbacks. Passes out. Next chapter I want it to be a Killian POV, and him to narrate the memories of the non cannon scenes. Basically the relationship that was developing, the friendship...(No they weren't lovers before the darkness. They were both being guarded and holding back, each for their own reasons….)
> 
> But I am sorta not looking forward to trying to write that next chapter. @_@ I had hoped to have both cannon and my story’s head cannon scenes together in one chapter, but it didn't work out that way. I'm still kinda very unhappy with this chapter.
> 
> Ironically, I had about two and a half pages already written, but I looked at it, and had to write almost two and a half pages BEFORE it. Cause it started in a place that wasn't a good place to start off with. But I am glad I got to use it. I liked the first like six pages of this I guess, but once I started having to do the darkness rooting around in Hook’s memories...I started doubting and fighting myself the entire way. And what’s even more frustrating, the other night I rewatched all of season 2 up to a specific point, and transcribed all the Hook Emma scenes for this...(which ended up being almost 15 pages) and then I ended up not actually writing out most of the scenes I transcribed the dialogue for….
> 
> I didn't mean to leave this story for so long, but a huge part was I felt I needed to watch and transcribe all the hook Emma scenes...(That I didn't end up using most of that anyway. Argh!) Plus as I have mentioned before, my inspiration seems to come in spurts. I'm kinda really hoping I get to write a lot of chapters before inspiration dries up again. I’ve got over 30 pages of notes for this fic after all! Though I still run into the problem I think I made the darkness to powerful, so he interferes with Hook trying to comfort Emma in this fic. Damn it….
> 
> Laters!
> 
> \---Michelle


	17. Seventeen

Killian Jones awakes with a sound, a choked out attempt at a scream. That hoarse noise coming from a throat that has run raw from it’s near constant shouting, is like nothing he’s ever before voiced, the word, the name, falling from him with a dry croak.

“Emma?!”

That weak sound, that broken whisper in the dark goes unanswered, but then it’s not as though the pirate was truly expecting anything else. He chokes on his bitter attempt at a chuckle, feels his throat burn with the effort it takes to speak. That pain is nothing compared to the world of hurt inside of him, Killian aware of claws scraping over him still.

It is no different from all that he has endured, all that he thinks will continue to happen. The dark monster inside him, rages on unfettered, clawing and scraping at the pirate from the inside, leaving red lines of agony burning on the outside. Those marks take their time in healing, as though the dark energy inside him is purposefully distorting the magic that maintains their body. Killian shakes with his pain, a gurgled out groan escaping him as he shifts in place on the floor. There’s blood all around him, it’s warmth long having fled to leave it utterly cold. 

His whole body is, Killian cold and wracked with shivers. Each great shudder only serves to remind him of the pain that he has never forgotten, Killian gasping, choking on a sound that might very well be another attempt at a laugh. There’s nothing funny about this situation, and yet Killian can't seem to stop, his laughter fueled in part by the furious growling that is coming from deep inside his head.

“Choke on that you fucking monster.” Strong words muttered on a weak whisper, his lips twisting in a mocking grimace meant to further enrage the dark. He feels a claw tease along his nerves in retaliation, Killian stiffening with a sharp inhale of breath. The resulting pain leaves his body in spasms, Killian letting loose with a scream. 

He’s not the only one screaming. A voice joins him in the dark, a woman crying out in concern. His eyes snap open with his surprise, Killian trying to roll his still spasming body towards hers. The pirate’s not entirely successful, but then she’s nowhere near to him.   
From across the room he sees her, or at least he sees her feet. Padding carefully, cautiously across the floor, working to avoid the many puddles of sticky blood, Killian is alarmed to realize that Emma Swan is making her slow way TO him. 

“N...no.....” He tries to say, but Killian can't even hear his own voice over the pounding in his head. He certainly hasn't spoken loud enough for Emma Swan to hear, let alone for the woman to take heed of his plea. She doesn't even hesitate, doesn't even acknowledge that the pirate has tried to speak. Emma just keeps on walking forward, with slow but determined steps. There’s no menace to her gait, but there is a purposeful air in the way that she strides. Emma walks until her bare toes brush against the hair on the top of his head, the woman staring down at him with an unfathomable gleam in her eyes.

He takes in the details of her, of her wild and tangled hair. Of stark bruises against the too pale skin, the shirt that she’s knotted in place around her barely reaching past to cover her thighs. it’s buttons are missing, the shirt gaping open slightly in places. Killian can spy the coral pink hint of a nipple, and the teeth marks near it. And the imprints of his hand’s fingers around her slender throat laying there like a dark necklace. Guilt spikes with every mark noticed, every hurt catalogued, Killian staring until he can bear it no more, squeezing his eyes shut with a groan.

“Bloody hell, Emma, get away from me already!”

Impossible, a sound thumps to the ground besides him. Killian opens his eyes to the sight of Emma kneeling besides him, that unreadable expression of hers started to crack apart, as she reaches out with a shaking hand to touch his bristly cheek. There’s blood even there, Emma’s thumb tracing the line of it, the woman staring, her brow furrowing as she studies the pirate’s eyes. 

The look he exchanges with her, seems to say so much. Certainly it voices all the pain and the sorrow Killian is not yet capable of speaking out loud. The many apologies that he owes her, the forgiveness he’s not worthy of getting, it’s there too, Killian’s sad regret laying revealed in the open honesty of the tortured blue of his eyes.

Another pained spasm hits him, Killian crying out in that broken tone of voice. Emma seems to be bending over him, the curtain that is her blond hair falling forward over one shoulder, the woman catching at the hand that he tries to lift up to her. Emma’s lips move, the softest of breaths whispering out of her. Killian doesn't understand, and he doesn't dare hope, that the sorrow there, the SYMPATHY is anything that is at all there for him. Not when he’s given up all right, to it and to her, Killian thinking now on all he has done, all he has cost her, them, and the trust that he’s shattered.

It’s not just the darkness. Not just what the monster inside him has done. Killian thinks back to his own betrayals, his own once insatiable need for revenge. Most of all, he remembers what a coward he had been, how the thought of opening his heart anew to anyone, anyone, let alone Emma, had had the pirate running.

He’s no right to say it, and yet his lips move with the words. Emma frowns, and bends even closer, tilting her head in such a manner, so that her ear is right next to the pirate’s mouth. “I should have let you in.” Is what he has said, what he now repeats, and what he truly means. Even after he’s fallen quiet, the words brim strong in his heart. They and the regret, Killian Jones shaking, thinking, remembering the days that had once been. 

It’s a lifetime ago that he remembers. A lifetime since his ribs had been cracked, and then healed. The memories come, the hospital, the lock up, and especially the safe house. Back then when he had first awakened in the hospital, chained to a bed, Killian hadn't realized that it was his first true chance at starting life over. At healing, a future not an ending sitting besides him, jade green staring down at him in an unrelenting manner. As Killian’s eyes had opened, and had seen Emma Swan waiting for him, he had smiled without even meaning to. She hadn't smiled back, her voice the only thing to betray the impatience that had been coursing through her.

“Where is Cora?”

Had Emma hoped to catch him while he was still reeling in disorientation? Certainly it hadn't been his best moment of coherency, a mangled groan accompanying his confusion. “What?” He had moved his arm as he had asked that, and had felt the resistance, and had heard the clink of the manacle around his wrist. Killian remembers turning, shifting with another pained sound that had turned into one of exaggerated aggression, the man discovering that he was bound yet again and by her.

“Again?” He had asked, looking at her with a mocking quirk of his brow. “You're into this, aren't you?” It had been a subtle twist of her lips, a slight but potent smirk given his way. The pirate had again tried to move, only to instead cry out with a curse. “God but that hurts!”

“I told you that last night, you cracked a few ribs.” Emma Swan had retorted, and then leaned forward. The look in her eyes had been intense, the woman staring completely focused on him. He had truly felt a shiver go through him, a perverse little thrill experienced to find himself at her focus and mercy. “Where is Cora?”

“You look good, I must say, all where is Cora in such a commanding voice.” His teeth had flashed with that truth. “Chills.” he had added with his own cheeky smirk.

She had truly been an ice queen, all cold and calm, and ever so softly threatening. “You have all sorts of sore places that I can make you hurt with.” He had merely smiled back, completely unaffected until Emma Swan had suddenly grab ahold of him, and began squeezing about his sore ribs. It had made Killian cry out, had made him jerk his manacled hand against it’s restraint. Emma had smirked down at him, waiting, and just before she went to squeeze again, Killian had cried out in a tone that was both frustrated and exasperated.

“I have NO idea where Cora is. She has her own agenda. There’s still something I AM interested in....my hook.” He had lifted up his arm that had looked so lonely as a stump without that curved metal hook to accentuate it. “May I have it back?” A disbelieving look was what he had received in it’s place, Killian flashing her a very lewd grin. “Or is there anther attachment you prefer?”

Disbelief had bled through to annoyance, Emma Swan having hardly been amused. “You're awfully chipper for a guy who just failed to kill his enemy, then got hit by a car.”

He had still been being saucy, flashing her an even more perverse look. “Oh my ribs may be broken, but everything else is still intact. Which is more than I can say about other bad days that I've had.” A satisfied grin had curved on his lips, Killian having leaned back relaxed on the hospital bed. “Plus I did some quality damage to my foe.”

“You hurt Belle!”

“I hurt his HEART.” He had been quick to correct her. “Belle is just where he keeps it. He killed my love, I know the feeling.”

Killian hadn't so much as flinched when Emma had leaned down over him. He had been aware of her hands, so near and so capable of hurting him. And yet he had just kept on smiling, looking up at her as though daring her to do her worst. 

“Keep smiling, buddy.” She had said. “You're chained down. HE’S on his feet, is immortal, has magic, AND you hurt his girl. If I was to pick dead guy of the year, it would be you.”

They had stared at one another for several long moments, and then Killian had given her an even brighter smile. One that had said he had not a care in the world now that his revenge had been achieved. Emma Swan had looked startled to see it, the exasperated annoyance warping into a sad kind of disappointment. She had left then without saying another word, but her steps had been slow, as though Emma had been hoping the pirate would have called out to her.

He hadn't. He had merely collapsed back in place on the bed with an exaggerated sigh, Killian Jones not knowing what he was going to do with himself now. He had had no hopes, no dreams, no ambitions left to him. He hadn't even expected to still be alive, not after what he had done to the crocodile’s love.

It hadn't been victory that had been inside him, it had been an emptiness, a cold, stark bleakness. His revenge hadn't been enough, hadn't satisfied him, and hadn't brought back his love. Killian had had NOTHING, nothing, and not even the thought of the crocodile’s unending misery, would have changed that. 

That night he had been prepared to die. That night Killian Jones would have welcomed the crocodile’s attack. Funny how things could change, and look brighter in the morning, with several pretty nurses around, and the pain medication flooded into his system. It had helped that Killian had heard Belle’s screams, that he had heard the shouting of the crocodile arguing with her. Rumplestiltskin had been so desperate, so driven, trying to force Belle to remember who that she really was, and just what he had once meant to her.

The amusement that Killian Jones had felt over the strife and turmoil that he had helped cause, made the pirate wonder if it would be worth it to stick around. Worth it to stay alive, to stay and witness the crocodile’s increasing panic and desperation. Whatever the case, it wasn't in Killian Jones to just lay down and die, not when the better revenge would be to continue LIVING.

It was easier said then done, given that Rumplestiltskin was now out for his blood. Killian’s life had been in jeopardy, the hospital itself had been in danger, Rumplestiltskin roaming the halls, searching, searching, in the hopes of finding and ending his long lived foe. The pirate had known which way the wind was blowing, and had sought out an alliance with one Emma Swan.

He can still remember the shocked look on her face, when he had strode out into the hospital waiting room. Killian had still been garbed in what passed as a patient’s clothing of the hospital, the manacle still dangling from his wrist. Emma had taken one look at that, one look at him, and had immediately hurried over. “How did you?” She had started to stammer and ask but Killian had already been speaking. 

“I want to parley.” He had said.

Emma had merely blinked at him, the woman still trying to process the fact that he had pulled of an escape one handed. Her mouth had opened and closed, Emma gaping at him. Killian had let out an exaggerated sigh, actively chastising her to remember that he was first and foremost a pirate.

“But...but that still doesn't explain...” She hadn't regained her composure, not until Killian had stepped right into her private space. Emma had then blinked, and shook her head, and then a steely eyed mask had slid into place. “I don't negotiate with criminals.”

“But you do serve to protect the peace in this town, do you not?” Killian had asked her. He had learned from the nurses that he had charmed, just what Emma Swan’s job as sheriff was, and what it had entailed. He had come to her armed with a knowledge he had meant to use, Killian reminding Emma that hers was to not only solve crimes, but to prevent them.

She had frowned at him in response. “Are you even well enough to leave the hospital?”

“He'll be dead if he stays.” A woman with short cropped black hair had pointed out.

“Not exactly seeing the problem here.” A man with light colored hair muttered from where he had sat in the waiting room.

“Charming!” The black haired woman had admonished the man. The two had exchanged a meaningful look, just as the very building of the hospital seemed to quake with power, the lights flickering on and off.

“I don't know how the things of this world work..” Killian had begun in a mild tone of voice. “But wouldn't it be bad if this place with all these sick and injured people were to turn into a battle zone?”

“Won't be much of a battle, with the condition you're in.” Emma had muttered, and then sighed. “Fine...fine...I'll take you down to the station.”

“And what will you do there?” The black haired woman had asked.

“I can think of a few things...” Killian’s cheeky tone, and the smirk he had flashed, had earned him a growl from the man she had called Charming.

“That’s my daughter you're leering at!” The man had snarled.

“I can handle him, dad...” Emma Swan had said, already taking hold of Killian’s arm.

“Oh aye, that you can.” Killian had purred in a seductive tone. He almost didn't hide the wince, when Emma squeezed down on his biceps. “Ah you like that too, do you?” He had winked at her, even as her nails had dug into his flesh. “I can take a bit of slap with my tickle.”

“Come on!” She had growled, and somehow they had safely made it outside to the hospital’s parking lot. He had been too busy looking around the inside of her vehicle, to pay note to what she had been doing with her hands, with just what she had been grabbing a hold of.

“It’s a bit small, but this is not a bad vessel.” The pirate had said, as Killian had reached out to grasp hold of dangling length of crystal hanging from a small mirror. It was then that Emma Swan had made her move, snapping a new manacle onto his wrist.

“This is really getting to be a real habit with you.” He had complained. 

“You're under arrest.” Emma had retorted in withering tones.

“For what?!” He had exclaimed out in protest “The girl lived.”

“Belle may not have died, but she was hurt. And there’s also the fact you are most likely aiding and abetting Cora.”

“I told you I don't know where that witch is!” She had smirked at his frustration, Emma then gripping the steering wheel of her vessel. As the car had begone to maneuver out of the hospital parking lot, Emma had continued talking.

“And then there’s the matter of Dr. Hopper...” She had sighed at his blank look, Emma growling. “Jiminy?”

“The cricket?”

“You kidnapped and tortured him!” Another smirk. “I may not be able to charge you with anything you did back in the Enchanted Forest, but you've broken plenty of laws here in Storybrooke, already.”

She had meant it to. Emma Swan had brought him to the police station, had begun the process of putting the pirate into the system. She did things to him that he hadn't understood, had put ink on his fingers, and forced them to a piece of parchment. She had made him stand in front of a wall, and had flashed lights at him, and most of all, Emma had then trapped him inside a tiny cage, the lock up as she had referred to it. 

At least she had the grace to provide him with a change of clothing. Though the garments had been quite strange and nothing like what Killian had been used to wearing. Blue jeans he thinks she had called them, and quite comfortable in their own way, but he had missed his leathers. He had missed his freedom too, pacing the tiny cell, and glaring across to where Emma had sat sipping at a mug of some sort. She had stared at a box as she had done this, Emma’s face lit with a dim blue light.

Killian hadn't like being ignored by her, hadn't liked it one bit. He had been used to commanding attention, had been used to women of all kinds clamoring over his pretty face. And even some men! But most of all, he hadn't like how she had continued to underestimate him, how Emma Swan had assumed he was harmless now that she had caged him.

“If you wanted me all to yourself...” He had said in a solicitous tone, resting his hip against the side of her desk closet to her. “All you need do is ask.” The pirate had gotten the satisfaction of her jump, Emma Swan startled to see him out of the cage. 

“How do you keep doing that?!” She had all but shouted at him in agitation. Killian hadn't been able to keep from boasting, telling Emma Swan there was not a prison that could hold him, or a lock that he couldn't pick. She had ALMOST looked impressed, her gaze then drifting over to his still hook lacking stump. 

“This?” He had asked, wiggling it at her. “Other parts of me more than make up for this.” Killian had licked his lips as he had said this, and had rolled his hips as much as he had dared, given his ribs had still been bothering him with their hurt.

Emma Swan had actually rolled her eyes at that. “I know that doesn't make you less of a man. I'm just trying to figure out how you can pick a lock with just one hand.”

“I've five nimble fingers, and over three hundred years to put to practice what I've learned.” He had been leering at her then. “Care for a bit of hands on demonstration?” 

The look Emma Swan had given him, would have withered to pieces the strongest and most ancient of oaks. Killian had felt a perverse thrill work it’s way through him at her blatant disdain, the man realizing it had been a long, long time since he had had anything at all like a challenge. 

He had smiled all the broader for it, having thought there no sweeter conquest than the one that was hard fought and hard earned. He had looked at Emma Swan, and had salivated at the chase, at the sweet distraction that she could have been. Back then, in those early days in Storybrooke, Killian had been all about getting between Emma Swan’s legs. 

When had it all changed? When had Emma Swan begun to matter as something more than just a notch on his belt? Killian couldn't pin point it precisely, but it was at some point after she had brought him to that hidden safe house, after all his flirting and blatant innuendo, that the pirate had begun to look at the woman as something other than a treasure to be plundered.

Killian can remember one morning in particular. Always an early riser, Emma Swan had already had breakfast out on the table. She had sat there with a bagel in hand, and what he had learned passed for Storybrooke’s newspaper in the other. She had been studying the front page, completely engrossed in an article, and hadn't even noticed the pirate standing in the kitchen’s doorway. He had stood there quietly, studying her, Emma clad in her usual red leather jacket, and blue jeans. She had had a bit of her bagel’s cream smeared on her lip, and Killian had wet his mouth in response. When her tongue had darted out to gather and lick up the cream, Killian had barely stifled his moan.

“Don't start.” Emma had grumbled, not looking up from the newspaper.

“Wouldn't dream of it.” By then his ribs’s healing had been coming along nicely, Killian able to smoothly glide over to the table without any sort of pain flaring. He had sat down next to her, had snatched hold of a bagel she had already buttered for him, and then stopped. He had looked at the bagel, at that simple but thoughtful gesture, and then turned to Emma. His mouth had opened and closed with unspoken gratitude, the woman still intent on whatever she had been reading about in the paper. 

“I can't figure you out.” He had said at last, biting down almost viciously into the bagel.

“What can't you figure out?” 

He had taken his time answering, chewing and savoring the taste of the creamy butter. It wasn't just the bagel, it was everything, Killian at last acknowledging all that she was giving up. “You have a son, a family...and yet you're here with me….”

“I may be a mother, I may have a family, but I am also still sheriff.” She had retorted, still focused on the paper. “Protecting this town and it’s people is my job.”

“You've gone above and beyond your duty here.” Killian had argued. “You've spent weeks by my side...”

At that, Emma had lowered the paper, to fix him with a look. “I had no choice. SOMEONE made that quite clear.”

“Am I supposed to apologize?” He had NEVER been content to sit in the safe house all alone, or with Emma Swan’s father. The second his back was turned, Killian had made his escape. Not once, not twice, but nearly half a dozen times, until finally, an exasperated Emma Swan had acknowledged that the only way to make the pirate stay put, was for her to lay vigil on him for twenty four hours a day.

“Would be nice.” Emma had retorted. 

Killian had smiled and shaken his head no. “I've nothing to be sorry for….” He had taken another bite of his bagel, slowly licked his lips clean of it’s buttery cream. Emma had stared at him all the while, but she hadn't so much as blushed at the lewd way he had used his tongue. “I quite enjoy the company.”

And he had. What had started out as a means for sexual gratification, had become something more. Each day that Killian had spent with Emma Swan, he had begun to see the person that she was, rather than merely the pleasurable diversion that the pirate had hoped her to be. The fierce lioness, the mother who protected her child, the savior who stood guard over the town. The woman whose jade eyes lit up with a brilliant sparkle whenever he had managed to truly make her laugh. He had seen her craftiness, the street smart savvy, and that educated mind. They had sparred together, both verbally and physically, Emma surprising Hook with her eagerness to learn. Just as he surprised her, the pirate eager to know everything there was about Storybrooke. Through Emma Swan’s tutelage, Killian Jones learned much about modern day living, everything from the telephone to the computer, to the kinds of food and culture that made up the town’s life.

Most of all, he learned to appreciate it, the town and Emma Swan, and that was what had made him bolt. With his heart hammering in his chest, with sweat beading on his skin, one early morning Killian had stepped out of the safe house, and had taken off running. He had ended up by the harbor, just staring out across the water. Emma had caught up to him shortly after, her exhausted breath coming out angry, as she had shouted at Killian about his death wish.

He had frozen at her words, at the accusation there. Because she had been wrong about it, about him, Killian no longer having a death wish. At least not in the way that she had assumed, Killian realizing his hurt over Milah was no longer crippling him to the point of not caring. Instead, a new kind of hurt was forming, a guilt of his betrayal, and a fear. That fear had the walls coming up more strongly, Killian looking at Emma and realizing she was making him want things, a life, a future, a happiness he no real right to. It was about more than just sex, more than just a brief bit of fun. He had been starting to want forever, Emma Swan creeping into his heart. It wasn't yet love, he hadn't been willing to let it be that. Not when it was a betrayal, a ruin of everything he had vowed to Milah, both when the woman had been alive, and after she had died.

It was more than just his promise to Milah, Killian had realized. It was his own cowardly heart, his own fear of rejection, and the fear of the past repeating. Losing Milah had devastated him, to let Emma in and then lose her too would destroy the pirate completely. So frightened of the what ifs, the potential for disaster, Killian had run from Emma and his feelings for her.

Things had twisted, things had changed between them, Killian no longer trying quite so hard at flirting. It didn't seem to matter, Emma herself had been too guarded. Thick though the walls around his heart had been, Emma’s had been thicker. What Killian had once tried to chip at, he had then backed away from and Emma Swan had noticed. 

Killian doesn’t know that Emma Swan had been struggling just as much as the pirate. That her carefully constructed walls hadn’t been enough to keep the woman from being affected. Her own heart had started to yearn, the woman reluctantly admitting to herself that she had been enjoying whatever this was with Hook. But her own heart was damaged, a man in her distant past having hurt Emma greatly. She had balked at the idea of romance, and at the idea of scratching an itch with the pirate. Instead she strictly friend zone the man, Emma never letting on to Hook how he had begun to wear her heart down.

They both struggled together, and yet kept their battle separate. Neither knew of the other’s suffering, neither knew of the decision they had both made. Each clung to the strict idea of friendship, and every day the boundaries were pushed, tested, and came closer to breaking. A look here, a grazing touch there, and small acts of kindness that lingered long after in each of their hearts.

Little by little, but with steps taken both forward and back, the push and play of their hearts continued, the two inching closer together. Emma would find herself staring, watching as the pirate worked up a sweat with just some low slung jeans on. The attraction was there, and only growing stronger, Emma sometimes waking up in the dead of the night, with her heart yammering in her chest, the remnants of some lingering dream about the pirate drifting about her thoughts.

She'd keep on telling herself that soon, soon this would end. Just as soon as Gold calmed down, just as soon as the fairies found a way to cure Belle---or Lacey as she was now known. With Belle restored, and returned to Gold’s arms, the vendetta would end, and Emma would have no reason to stand guard over Hook. Away from him, this madness would end, the infatuation would fade, allowing Emma to devote herself to being the mother Henry had always wanted.

It wasn't meant to be. Never mind there was an immortal raging about town, more and more trouble stirred every day. Giants, witches, curses? Absolutely normal compared to the murder and mayhem that Regina and her mother had unleashed on the town. Innocents suffered and died, Emma and her father as acting sheriffs of the town, gathering together with a few allies at a different safe house. Hook hadn't been present, Emma for once trusting him to stay put without a sitter. With her father and mother, with Leroy and the other dwarves, with Granny and Ruby, and even a few of Mother Superior’s fairies, a war council had been held. 

And it was during this council, that Blue herself arrived. With a panicked look, with her hands clutched tightly around her fairy wand, the Mother Superior had revealed just what Cora and Regina truly aimed for. The dagger, that magically forged weapon meant to capture and control the Dark One.

“With that in their hands, all will be doomed!” Blue had dramatically proclaimed, her hands white knuckling the delicate wand she had clutched to her chest.

“Is there ANY way to stop them?” Emma had asked. Blue had simply shrugged her shoulders and had shaken her head no, looking for all the world as though she already considered them all dead and defeated.

Emma had refused to think like that. Had refused to lose hope. She hadn't fought her way back from the Enchanted Forest, to lose her son, her family, or this town to Regina. And she certainly hadn't been about to lay down and die for Cora’s amusement. She began firing off suggestions, refusing to be discourage even as the others all shot down or found fault with her schemes. 

With no real plan, and no real hope, Emma had ended the meeting with the advice that they all do their best to find and get their hands on that dagger. No one dared approached Mr. Gold about this. No one dared tried, fearing the state of mind he was in, frightened of what he would do and to whom. No one seemed safe, no one except Belle, the woman now believing herself to be someone named Lacey. 

That in itself was a new kind of trouble, Lacey being released from the hospital. She promptly began dating all around town, and where she went, heart break followed. Mr. Gold was not subtle about his displeasure, attacking several of the men who had dared try to court Lacey. One man was even killed for his efforts, the others hospitalized from severe beatings and burns. Already so dangerous, Mr. Gold was completely out of control, the town having enough to deal with without a jealous Dark One running wild. 

Just when it seemed the town would break apart from it’s constant state of chaos and fear, something close to a miracle happened. Lacey NOTICED Gold, the woman in her new persona, having a thing for bad men. Thrilled by his penchant for going around beating people, terrorizing them, even killing them, Lacey became a permanent fixture on Gold’s arm. The beauty in turn tamed the beast, and the two were often seen around town. Laughing, smiling, even kissing, one such moment was captured by a camera, the nervous newswoman reporting a happy ending had finally come for the Dark One and his beauty.

It had meant to be an uplifting story, a story to reassure the terrified masses that the Dark One’s murderous reign had been ended. It might have even been a story meant to give hope. But for one man, the pirate, his heart was filled with neither hope nor happiness, Killian looking at the safe house’s television, and screaming in protest. His heart had twisted, and his heart had broke, Killian looking at Gold kissing Lacey, and his vision had run red with a murderous rage. In that instant, his vengeance renewed in his heart, Killian sick not only with the need to make the crocodile be eternally miserable, but sick with jealousy over the love Rumplestiltskin still had.

It wasn’t just Milah that drove Killian to go after the Dark One, it was EMMA. For what he couldn't have, for what he had wanted more than he thought possible, for the second chance his guarded heart was trying to believe in. The second chance Killian thought to deny them, the man intent on sabotaging the friendship before it could become anything more. That night when Emma had returned to the safe house, she had found the tv smashed, and Killian Jones had been long gone. 

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh, this was becoming the chapter that did not want to end. I kinda forced it to just end it where I did...@_@ Otherwise we might end up with a 30 page chapter at this rate. I also have mixed feelings about it. I like some of it, but some of it I wonder if it stinks. Or that I was messing up trying to explain stuff. I actually had a part when Killian first got out of his cell, that really sucked, and I took it out of the chapter. What I wrote in it’s place I liked a lot better. 
> 
> I guess I am also worrying, cause this is more a light hearted feel in this chapter, (part of it anyway) than the overall fic. I guess I worry it’s too jarring and different from the fic...but I have been wanting and needing to establish Hook and Emma had a friendship going on, but both were being guarded and not letting it become more...Maybe in a future chapter, I will detail better some real sexual tension they had going on….Maybe even next chapter. Whatever the case, it’s 3 am and I have been working on this since like four pm, so I need a break. Gonna spell check and proofread, and hope this is good enough. @_@
> 
> \---Michelle


	18. Eighteen

It feels strange to be this near to him. Dangerous even, Emma all too aware of just how quickly things could go sour. How suddenly the pirate’s frantic blue eyes could change into that of unfeeling black. She can almost feel it watching her from a distance, almost sense the monster brimming just under the surface of Killian Jones’ injured body. She’s not sure what it’s waiting for, not even sure what has pissed it off THIS time. Emma just knows that Killian is the one paying the price, random sections of his skin violently splitting open, invisible claws leaving jagged furrows that are being excruciating slow to heal.

Emma can't keep from flinching at the sight of each one as they happen. Can't quite keep from gasping, from crying out in concern. It HURTS to look at the pirate, to see the suffering the darkness is inflicting on him. Before Emma even knows it, the woman is not only kneeling next to Killian, she is bending over him, her hair catching specks of blood onto it’s tangled locks. 

She doesn't know what to do, what to say. Her hands hesitate at the idea of touching him, her lips opening and closing on the shakiest of sighs. The concern that is alive in her heart, makes Emma want to comfort the pirate somehow, but she doesn't know how to, or if it is even possible in the moment. She supposes they are even then, because there’s not much of anything that Killian can do for her in return. Not in the state that he finds himself in. And not so long as that monster is inside him.

Her hands tense with the need for violence, with the need to strike out despite the fact that Killian is already suffering. What good would it do, what relief would it give HER, to hit a downed man, when the darkness that lives on inside is unstoppable. It’s a push and pull of feelings at play inside of Emma Swan, the woman hating and hurting, yet also so damn sorry. Actually worried for the pirate, for the man she had thought he was capable of becoming.

Thoughts of that man, of the potential he had once had, it brings to life such pain inside pf her. Her heart hurts in a way Emma hadn't thought possible, and that is before she leans into his mouth so that he can make his whispering be heard.

“I should have let you in.”

She blinks quickly in response to that. Emma’s vision blurring with tears. She’s not one used to crying, but there’s also nothing left that is worth smiling over, Emma choking on a sound. A sob, the woman starting to shift away from the pirate. He doesn't try to stop her, doesn't try to do anything but look at her. That sad regret, the immense sorrow in his eyes, it’s a naked admittance of both his guilt and his feelings, Killian at last ready to acknowledge that there had been something between them. Something more than either one of them had been ready for.

Emma looks at the pirate with all of her bitter and her hurt, and still can't stop the solemn self pity from rising. From blaming herself, Emma quietly admitting that her walls hadn't come down any faster than his. She can't keep from wondering, from obsessing on how different that things could have been. How there might have been a chance, some kind of future other than the bleak despair that they now both faced. That monster who pervades everything, who assaults Emma and Killian both. It’s that darkness, that creature, who not only destroys their present, their future, but also their past.

There’s a resentment inside her, a resentment that has nothing to do with the dark, and everything to do with her and Killian’s poor choices. Emma can't help faulting the pirate, blaming him for being unable to let go of his vengeance. But she also can't find herself completely innocent, Emma feeling as though she should have tried harder to let her walls come crumbling down. Maybe then if she had, maybe if they both had, if their hearts had been just a little less guarded, maybe just maybe Emma herself could have replaced the need for revenge that had still existed inside Killian’s heart.

But Emma had been too busy running, and not just from the prospect of being something more. She had hid from the attraction, from the way the pirate had made her feel, Emma unable to reconcile the soft, gentle feelings with the battle hardened woman she had wanted to be. Even the idea of just friendship had made her feel weak, Emma trying to keep Killian at a professional distance. That he had continued to worm his way into her heart, bit by bit without even trying, had left her unsettled. To the point Emma was almost grateful for the diversion that was Cora and Regina’s murderous ambitions.

Emma can't help but remember the weeks spent at the safe house with the pirate. And the close quarters that they had kept. They hadn't once shared a bed, but it had been a ritual habit to keep a watch over the pirate from the open door of her bedroom. It was watch him, or try to chain him in place, and Killian had all too often and readily proven what an artist he was when it came to escaping her attempts to restrain him. 

Those first few nights at the safe house, sleep for her had proved all but impossible, Emma keeping vigilant watch. It would take a full week before it would register that the pirate had no intention of leaving, that he was content to stay in lock up, so long as Emma was the one who doubled as his companion and guardian. It had been flattering in it’s own odd way, Emma well aware of how often Killian had escaped while under her father, David’s care. Flattering one way, exasperating in another, Emma forced to stop living her day to day routine to basically baby sit the pirate.  
It wasn't just her family, her son, that she had lost time out of. It was the everyday things, the seeing to the people, to the making sure that the town itself ran as smoothly and as crime free as possible. She had missed eating at Grannys, had missed making the rounds and helping people with their problems. She hadn't had much of a life, beyond her job, no suitors, and no true friends. It hadn't just been her job as sheriff that had kept Emma apart from the people of Storybrooke, it had been what she was, what they considered her still. The savior, the only one capable of breaking just about any curse.

She had never felt much like what they idealized her to be. Emma felt as though all her meager accomplishments had just been happy accidents, or a destiny set in place by Mr. Gold long before she had been born. Not even the light magic that was supposedly inside her, the magic she had never learned to use, that she had only seen proof of that one time with Cora, could get Emma to feel otherwise. 

It had left her feeling a sham, a fake who had to do her best to try and live up to the heavy expectations of the many who lived in this town. Emma had put her all into her job, had worked herself to that tired point of too much, and had still felt that she came up short. Maybe that’s what drew her to the pirate, to the man whose only expectation of her had at first been to get her in bed. Killian Jones hadn't seen Emma as a savior, hadn't seen her as this tireless force to be reckoned with. He had seen a woman, a conquest, the man flirting constantly. 

He had always been there with an innuendo or glib come on, always trying his hardest to be both charming and irresistible. More often that not, he came off as exasperating, Emma not always succeeding in stifling her groans, in not rolling her eyes, at some of the lewder things that the pirate had said. They made an art of it together, Emma trying her best to ignore him, while Killian had always seemed to up the ante with his attempts to make her blush. A wiggle of his eyebrows, a lewd roll of his hips, that thing he did with his tongue and his lips, and God help her, but Killian had starred in more than one fantasy of hers in the dead of the night.

He was simply too handsome, too pretty a man for her to not be affected by his nearness and his constant attention. The flirtation as he saw it. He would do things to call his attention to her, run those nimble fingers along the edge of her arm, stare at her with an unblinking intensity, and let his voice drop to a husky whisper that spoke of nothing but sin and promise. He'd walk around with his shirt open, flashing far too generous glimpses of his chest. One time he had leaned in the doorway of her bedroom, clad in little more than a towel, his hair still damp from his shower. 

That night, she had barely heard the words that the pirate had been speaking, Emma mesmerized by the play of wet skin, and the beads of water that had streaked across it. Her fingers had itched to curl into the sprawl of dark hair that was on his chest, the tension inside her wound up tighter than it had ever previously been. It hadn't helped that the towel had been slipping, hanging low enough on his hips that it had bordered on obscene. 

He had been aware of the effect that he was having, on the striking image that was his body. His confidence was such as to be unbearable, and yet not even the fact that he was disabled, could bring down his conceit. Killian didn't shy away from showing off his stump, didn't let it detract from his appeal or let it make him less than a man. And from the way he often took any and all opportunity to use his hook, Emma got the feeling he almost didn't mind having had lost his hand.

The same couldn't be said about the woman he had lost, that mysterious Milah, but he hadn't often offered up much information about HER. And Emma hadn't pried, content to wait him out, to let him choose to tell or not to tell her the full details of that sorrowful story. A part of her hadn't wanted to be privy to his whole pain, hadn't wanted a reason to see him as something more than a perverted, revenge seeking pirate. Keeping him locked in a one note dimension, made it easier to resist him, to not think of him as a person with any real feelings. It hadn't stop Emma from fantasizing, from wondering just how he made up for the lack of a missing hand when in bed. 

That kind of dangerous wondering, had had Emma watching the pirate more and more. Covertly, though sometimes blatantly, Emma noting that Killian loved to use his hook almost more than his sole remaining hand. Sometimes it made sense, such as when he would peel fruit. He'd point out excerpts in books with it, or even use it to pick out a stray twig from her tangled hair. He had even found a way to use the television’s remote with it, though it’s buttons had suffered terrible puncture wounds as a result. So often did Killian take the opportunity to use his hook, that Emma couldn't help but fantasize about what THAT would be like in bed as well.

She knew now. The darkness inside of him had seen to her education about THAT. Emma not only knew what it felt like to have that curved metal fit around her throat, she knew the sensory stimulation of it’s cold surface contrasting with the heat of her own skin. Emma had even experience the blunt side of it rubbing over her clit, the darkness giving her that devastatingly wicked smile, as it had forced her to climax. It even took to caressing the hook over her skin, the sharp press of it falling just short of making her bleed, depending on the darkness’ whims. But of all the things that the darkness can and has done to her, the creature enjoyed the hand on approach most of all. It had used Killian’s body against her, but also it’s shadows, those smokey, ebony coils holding her down, holding her in place whenever the creature wasn't in the mood for too much of Emma’s defiance.

These days Emma often didn't feel like there was much fight left in her. She still made a show of it, but it was lessened somehow. Everything about her felt less, her feelings, her spirit, even her worth. Emma feared it was finally happening, that she was finally breaking down, becoming numb to everything that the darkness had done, everything that it still threatened to do. Some days she couldn't even muster up the strength to care, while on others she clung desperately to the memory of her loved ones. Her family, and her son most of all.

Emma didn't know for sure what sort of state Henry had been left in. Didn't know if Cora hadn't used magic to completely tamper with the boy’s mind. Some days she almost hoped that the witch had, because how else would a child cope with all that was happening? With the crimes that were being committed against his own mother, his grand parents tortured and imprisoned, and the innocents of this town being hunted down and killed. 

The thought of the trauma all this could have on Henry, why it almost made Emma hope Regina hadn't been able to make good on her promise to not let Henry be mind fucked by magic. Emma didn't hope for anything more from Regina, not even the attempts the woman had made at promising she would find a way to fix this. It had been too long, Emma had endured too much, for the blonde to believe that help would ever be coming. It was hopeless, SHE was hopeless, Emma this much closer to giving up completely. So much of her was already gone, so much had been taken by the dark, that the concern that had surged to renewed life inside her, had taken Emma Swan completely by surprise.

Emma didn't know if she should resent the pirate for THAT too. Feeling of any kind was a liability, a price she was less and less inclined to pay. She clung to the memory of her family, to the love that the woman had for them, but even that was starting to be chipped away by the dark. She had been emptying out, isolated as she was, left with no voice and no touch but that of the creature’s. 

The concern was a spark, an ember that lit to life other emotions, other needs inside her. Emma reached out with her hands, set violently shaking fingers to the pirate’s shoulders. She hissed at the feel of him, at the feel of his feverish warm skin, and at the sticky remains that coated him, the lingering remnants from his darkness inflicted injuries. Blue eyes stared up at her, still so sad, so full of regret, his lips forming a half voiced protest for Emma to get away.

When she made no move to obey him, when the woman just kept on clinging to his shoulders, the pirate lifted up his arm. It was a weak effort as best, the man drained of all his energy. Emma caught at that feeble hand, unable to resist bringing it up to her face, to press the hot warmth of his palm against her cheek. Almost, as though he couldn't help himself, Killian moved his thumb in a circular caress meant to console. They BOTH looked surprised at the tears that fell at that, Emma crying at the first and only real comforting touch she had been able to get since this whole nightmare had began.

Killian didn't ask her why that she was crying, and Emma didn't offer up any explanations of her own to him. She could barely make sense of it herself, this body of his, the last place she should be seeking comfort from. And yet it was all that she had, Killian the only human contact she had left in this isolated world. Cora didn't come close to counting, neither as comfort or as human, that heartless bitch reveling in Emma’s suffering. And in the way that she used the woman to keep the darkness under her firm heel. 

There had been no one else. No one but the pirate who played unwilling host to the darkness inside him. In the weeks since Storybrooke had fallen to the dark, there had been nothing, no one, just the thoughts in her head, the memories of her family, to keep her sane.

In a lot of way she felt her mind was already broken, the tears falling even faster now. She wanted comfort so much, wanted to press against Killian for his warmth, for the feel of HIS arms around her. The many ragged cuts on his body was the only thing that gave her pause, Emma watching as another one manifested in response to the darkness’ displeasure.

“What’s happening?” She finally bothered to ask. “Why....why is it hurting you?”

“The hell if I know.” Killian managed to groan. But he made no effort to resist her, to draw back his hand. He almost seemed as starved for the contact as she was, Killian staring up at her with a blue colored pair of eyes that had somehow not dulled from the pain that he was in. The pain the darkness kept on making him experience. 

In a way, Killian was glad for the pain. Glad for the hurt the darkness was doing. Because for every second it spent on ripping him open, it was a second that Emma was spared of it’s attention. But there was also something to be said about the pain itself, not just for the fact that the pirate felt he deserved every last bit, but because it muddled his expression enough for him to openly lie to Emma Swan. Killian couldn't bear to tell her the truth, couldn't bear to see an already troubled expression become more so, the pirate understanding the darkness was hurting him in some twisted fit of jealousy. That jealousy that it felt, that made it hate, was brought to life in part because Emma wasn't giving it exactly what it wanted from her. What it remembered once having. Killian was certain Emma would be absolutely horrified to know the darkness was coveting from her something more than just sex.

It was a complete and total possession the darkness was after, the creature not even understanding just what it was after, the feelings it was trying to recreate. The attraction. What’s worse than it wanting, was that it now had an idea, the truth as it had tasted it, ripped from Killian’s own brain. Understanding had flooded it, the creature, that monster, realizing now that Emma Swan hadn't been trying to seduce it but the pirate instead.

He wasn't sure what ill that boded for them next, Killian not sure what a possessive, rage filled, jealousy fueled dark one was capable of. Once though, Killian had thought he had known. Once he had thought he had understood just why Milah had been killed, assuming Rumplestiltskin had ripped out and crushed her heart in jealous retaliation. But the truth is something all together different, Killian almost certain now that it hadn't been the man who had done the killing, but the monster he had had locked inside of him. 

Killian realizes he’s been hating the wrong one all this time. Has actively been seeking revenge against the one man who had learned to imprison the dark. He’s not sure how Rumplestiltskin had done it, and the pirate’s not even sure it can be done a second time. The fact that the monster keeps on attacking him, doesn't give much room for hope, Killian not sure that the darkness sees him as threat, so much an outlet for it’s frustrations.

He lets out a sigh then, a world weary exasperation sounded as he looks up at Emma. “You've always been more stubborn than it was healthy for you.” That stubborn streak is evident in the way that she won't leave Killian’s side, Emma not only kneeling next to him, but maintaining a touch between them. Emma chokes on a sound, a kind of half sob, half bitter laugh at what he has just said, but she also doesn't try to deny it.

He can still feel the darkness rattling around in his head. Still feel it staring, taking in everything about Emma Swan and the touch that she invites Killian to do. Claws dig in him still, but they are no longer quite so painful, the darkness slowing, the few swipes it occasionally takes now an almost absent minded attack. Much as it should relieve the pirate to not be constantly torn up from the inside by it, Killian fears the loss of interest. Fears that it means it will soon take back complete control of his body. 

Killian knows he can't let that happen. That he can't let it come back and hurt Emma Swan. An inkling of an idea is in his head, a surface thought that he guards and buries deep, hoping against hope that the monster won't be able to rip that from him too. He feels encouraged when no new splits spills his blood, Killian thinking he’s been successful. He struggles to get up off the floor, to sit up with Emma Swan’s assistance. It takes a supreme effort, his body so badly hurt and taking forever to heal.

Weak and woozy from the blood loss, from the pain he has endured, Killian wonders if he will be strong enough. If he will have what it takes to save Emma Swan. It’s an awfully huge maybe, a plan that might net more risk than hope. And yet the pirate is determined to try, owing this much to Emma Swan at the very least.

But most of all, Killian wonders if he will be allowed enough time, if the darkness will keep from possessing him, long enough for the pirate to do what needs to be done. He can't even stand at the moment, at least not on his own, Killian leaning heavily on Emma Swan, as she helps ease him up off the floor to his feet. Those many ragged cuts take their time to heal, and there’s so many still open and looking horrible. Even Emma cringes at the sight of them, which makes the pirate frown.

“Now I don't want you feeling any kind of sorry for me.” Killian admonishes in as stern a tone as he can manage. “I don't deserve your pity, or sympathy, or any kind of good feeling. Not after what I let happen....”

“It wasn't you.” It’s a hollow justification, and one Killian will not tolerate for long.

“I was the one who took hold of the dagger, who plunged into Rumplestiltskin’s black heart. It was through MY actions that such a monster was unleashed...”

“But you didn't know.” Emma was quick to point out, her eyes searching his for the truth of it. “You didn't know what would happen....”

“Ignorance is still no excuse.” Killian grumbled. “I should have tried harder to inform myself of all possibilities, of all outcomes that could come of using the dagger.”

There’s a pause, and than an openly blunt question. “Would it have made a difference if you had known?”

He hesitates, Killian unsure of how to answer. He had been so blind by his revenge, by his need to make the crocodile pay. Would anything have stopped him before hand, would anything have kept him from digging the dagger in deep into Rumplestiltskin? “If only I had had something in my heart other than revenge.” The pirate says at last. “If only I...if only I had let you in.” But he’s no longer worthy to even talk like this.

Emma steps away from him after she has settled him in place on the edge of the disheveled bed. Killian tries not to think on just what has happened here, on just how the bed has gotten into such a ransacked state. It’s all too easy to let his mind get carried away with awful imaginings, the few glimpses the darkness had allowed the pirate of it’s dealings with Emma, enough to give him a nightmarish idea of just the kind of things that had gone on.

He doesn't know the half of it. Doesn't know all the ways that the darkness has hurt Emma Swan. Killian can’t help but feel like a coward, his mouth unable to work to voice the questions in his head. He tries to lie to himself, tries to say it is better this way, better for Emma if he doesn't bring up those painful memories of hers. The memories that keep the haunted light to her expression, Emma looking more and more uncomfortable, the longer she looks at Killian on the bed. 

She’s uneasy, and she’s clearly exhausted, the abused woman unsteady on her feet. He wonders when is the last time she’s had a real moment to herself, a second where she doesn't have to tremble in fear. Most of all he looks at her, and wonders just what sort of care if any the darkness is showing her.

“When's the last time you've truly slept?” 

“I get a few minutes here and there.” Emma’s admittance is one that leave the pirate staring at her aghast. She can only shrug in response, arms crossing over her chest in a gesture Killian knows is purely defensive. 

“What about food?” He then asks. “How often is it feeding you?”

“It’s better at that.” Emma says. “Cora..” The woman makes a face as she hisses the name. “Made sure of that.” He can think of nothing to say to that, nothing that won't understate how evil a bitch the Queen of Hearts truly is.

“What about you?” Emma suddenly asks. “Would food and rest make those...tears...heal any faster?”

“I don't know.” Killian admits. “It might. It might not. Can't say I care either way.”

“How can you not care?!” Emma exclaimed. He holds her jade gaze with his, Killian absolutely serious as he lets her know the pain is worth enduring, if it means the darkness will stay away. Emma gets a strange look on her face at that, as though she is contemplating something awful. But she doesn't voice it out loud.

“You should get some rest while you can.” Killian suggests. 

“Why?” Emma asks guardedly. “Because I'll need it?”

Killian slowly nods a yes to her, and sees how that makes her shudder. “But also because you look ready to collapse....Emma, please!” He adds. “I'll keep watch for you. I may not stand much chance at stopping it, but at the very least, I'll WARN you before it can take over.”

“None of that sounds very reassuring.” Emma grumbled, but she was sitting down. It was not to the bed that she came to, but back to that mahogany made chair. She slowly curled up on it’s cushions, but kept her green gaze fixed on the pirate.

“How long do you think you can hold out against it?” He got the feeling she was asking more than just for one night, but Killian could only shrug. It hurt him to do that, almost as much as it hurt to say the words.

“I don't know, but I will try to hold it off for as long as I can. So you can at least get some much needed sleep.”

“Sleep....” Her eyes clouded over. “I don't know what’s worst. Dreaming, or waking up to discover the nightmare is still real and ongoing...”

He can only stare sadly at her, unable to offer her comfort, unable to truly try. He can't let on to the idea that he’s harboring, can't let on and risk the darkness or Emma finding out before it can be enacted. Killian can't let anything, or anyone, not even Emma Swan, stop him. The pirate is not sure he can be successful regardless, but he'll try all the same. He'll sacrifice and endure just about anything to see Emma Swan safe, to put an end to her living nightmare. Even himself.

To Be Continued.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah.....can't think of much to ramble about here. Had some difficulties getting this chapter started....didn't delve into the memories on Emma’s side as much as I had wanted. Maybe next chapter. For the most part I think I like this chapter. I actually ended up liking 16 and 17 too...after rereading them a dozen times each. I tweaked some words here and there, cause every time I reread, I always find a typo of some sort.
> 
> I liked how the chapters came out, and at the same time I feel paranoid by the lack of comments. Keep worrying that it mean ya’ll think I messed up the story and are keeping quiet as a result. @_@
> 
> Laters!
> 
> \----Michelle


	19. Nineteen

Sleep doesn't come easy. But then it usually never does, Emma Swan living a nightmare, one that she feels she will never truly wake up from. Because it’s there, waiting for her, whether  she’s awake or asleep, the dark always so quick to coil around and suffocate her. She chokes on it, on the dark’s foul kisses, on the twisted way that it tries to mimic a human’s emotion. Those clawed tipped fingers catch at her hair, comb through the many tangles, then pulls, making Emma cry out with a pain that the darkness is quick to take advantage of.

She doesn't even know why she still tries to fight it, why she makes any attempt at resistance. It never changes the outcome, never seems to stop the dark from ultimately having it’s way. With the kiss, or with her body, Emma made helpless, forced to endure the dark’s sadistic brand of affection. That hungry, open mouthed way of kissing, that and the play of it’s tongue against hers, the dark learning the way of it from the pirate, stealing every last bit of carnal knowledge that Killian Jones has come to possess. It’s some three hundred years of experience the darkness draws upon, the creature not only learning, but adapting it’s own brand of unique to the way that it has at Emma Swan. 

Its all the promise of the pirate and then some, the dark devastating Emma with the way that it uses it’s lips. Emma feels that firm, unyielding pressure, experiences both it’s demand and it’s urgency, the darkness wanting---actually expecting her to submit. Her own lips tremble with the effort that it takes to suppress her cries, the desperate pleading that won't make a difference in what the dark ultimately does. It just pulls harder on a fistful of her hair, nips at her one trembling lip, then gentles it’s harsh treatment with a soft laving of it’s tongue.

Those claws that had tugged and pulled so harshly, now pet a soothing rhythm against her scalp. The darkness lets out an unnatural sound, a deep rumble of purr no human being should have been able to make with their throat. Her own mouth falters at hearing it, her trembling increasing. For no good has ever boded at that sound, Emma almost, almost frightened into kissing the darkness back. 

It never ends at just kissing. Not when it’s got Emma pressed against the bed’s malleable surface, the dark insistently sliding into place, thrusting the pirate’s hips forward, so that she can feel against her the creature’s insatiable desire. It doesn't matter that it is still clothed, that that threatening part of it’s anatomy is still nowhere inside her. Emma can feel it, the dark’s throbbing warmth, that and the solid girth that bulges and strains against it’s pant’s fit. That rock hardness and the way that the dark uses it against her, makes Emma squeak in protest, the ancient entity rubbing sensation through her. 

It then abandons her lips, the dark kissing downwards. Over and under her chin, onto her throat, Emma trying to hold absolutely still, frightened of those teeth, those sharp fangs that could rip as easily as reward her. It gets a mouthful of her throat, the dark still purring in that satisfied manner. It worries and sucks at that skin, leaves one hell of a mark of ownership on her. 

Emma burns with the humiliation, with the knowledge of what she’s been reduced to. The mere possession that she has become. Each mark only serves to confirm it, the darkness branding her for any and all to see. Not that it lets anyone near her, Emma the treat the dark keeps all to itself. It jealously hoards her, holds her prisoner and hostage to the night. That unrelenting, never ending misery that is the dark eternal, the nights have all run together, until they are nothing but one endless torment.

It’s not just her. She knows that. The darkness has fallen over Storybrooke, has spread it’s influence to every far reaching corner of it’s borders. It’s evil chokes the life out of this once vibrant town, makes it little more than a nightmare made real. The fading memory of Storybrooke is lost to the hellish reality that is the dark’s own idea of paradise. A playground for all the evil that had festered in the hearts of this town’s people.

Emma wonders if there is anyone left, if there is any spark of goodness that has somehow survived. How can it, when the dark itself is so overwhelming, it’s evil spreading, injecting it’s poisonous influence into each and every heart it comes across. It makes the town turn against itself, makes the people hurt each other, as they fight and kill, and give in to every wicked impulse that they have ever had. Those few who resist, who openly try to fight against it’s influence, what chance do they have against numbers that are growing, their worst urges unleashed with the excuse that the dark has given them.

There’s no one to stop them, and no one to save the people of Storybrooke. Most probably don't even care, and even Emma is nearly past that point too. Her heart doesn't turn evil, but it does despair, Emma hurting and damaged and only growing more so by the hour. Such misery is only hastened by the darkness, by the near constant feel of it’s touch on Emma Swan’s body. It’s not one to be happy with her distraction, the dark one intent on having everything, from Emma’s body, to her heart, to the very thoughts in the woman’s head. 

The worst part is that she’s letting it have exactly that. Everything from the use of her body, to the fear of it in her heart, even Emma’s thoughts have twisted, the dark a lingering presence that haunts her every waking moment, and follows the woman down into even her dreams. There’s no escape and no lasting respite, Emma stalked by a demon. By a creature so intent on everything, it might just even be after her soul.

She knows nothing of the dazzling light that is inside of her, of the brilliance that continues to bloom. That radiance that only seems to flourish, burning hotter and brighter, and remaining every elusive of the dark. The light is the one thing of Emma Swan that the darkness can't actually touch, that has the power to burn it away completely. The dark should fear Emma Swan’s light as much as it covets it, the ancient entity instinctively knowing this is the yin to it’s yang, the counter balance that can destroy it. Instead it is attracted to the light, wanting to own it, to claim it, to keep it where no one else can see. 

It’s hidden Emma Swan away from the world, away from every last one of the people of this town. Even Cora no longer comes, no longer needs even bother, now that the dark understands better how to properly care for and keep alive it’s pet. The vessel that hosts the light, the woman that tempts the dark so. To the dark Emma Swan is it’s everything, those wants and desires she inspires within it, the reason the darkness does anything at all. It’s not even aware that it’s playing with fire, that this ceaseless obsession, this infatuation it has with Emma Swan might just lead to it’s undoing. 

It won't be today. It might not even be tomorrow. The darkness is loose and free to do as it still pleases, and nothing pleases it more than being with the woman. In sinking inside her, and in touching all over her. It is wild for the soft silk of her skin, for the fat globes of her breasts. The dark digs it’s fingers and it’s hook into Emma Swan’s hips, fascinated with how her skin changes color, how the pink streaks across it, how the black and blue bruises stand out in stark contrast on that milky pale flesh. 

Each mark across her flesh is an open letter of the dark’s twisted adoration, it’s praising worship of the light that is Emma Swan. It all but kneels at her feet, the dark purring, rubbing it’s bristly cheek against her belly. Shadowy eyes gaze up at her, the ebony there so alien and devoid of anything that Emma can relate to. She shifts uncomfortable in response, tensing up at the steel strength of the fingers now massaging the flesh of her thigh. She inhales to scream, to protest this, and suddenly it’s shadows are everywhere, the coils locking around her wrist and her ankles, slithering about her waist. There’s even a small loop of it about her neck, Emma collared by a physical manifestation of the dark’s power. Those coils lash her in place on the bed, Emma struggling, trying to tear free. The dark watches her for one frozen moment, then smiles that devastatingly horrific smile.

She screams out this time, everything in her tensing with a fight or flight reaction. But Emma’s not going anywhere with those oily restraints on her, the woman twisting this way and that way, trying desperately to get free. Confidant fingers pet over her in response, try to soothe away the worst of Emma’s fright. The battle doesn't still inside her, Emma struggling in place. She can almost get her hand free of it’s shadowy restraint, Emma stretching out her fingers. Feeling along the bed for something, for anything that she can use, her fingers close around the hilt of something, some sort of knife. Emma doesn't even know where that it has come from, and right now she doesn't particularly care. She wrenches her arm free, feels something break in her shoulder but her momentum carries her forward.

With a startled scream, Emma sits up for real. There’s no real sign of the darkness, no real sign of anything, and there’s certainly no knife. But her heart yammers with it’s steady rush of adrenaline, and Emma’s flesh beads with a nervous sweat. The dark shadows of the room have never looked more threatening, the woman expecting the monster to surge up out of them. That it doesn't does little to slow the fierce pounding of her heart, Emma waiting, holding her breath at times, as though that will keep away the dark.

It takes time for her to understand what has happened. That it’s been nothing more than a dream. She’s not in that bed with a broken shoulder, but situated on top the cushions of the mahogany made chair. She’s not even completely naked, one of the pirate’s old shirts knotted about her. Her heart still doesn't want to calm down, Emma shaking, lifting a hand up to her throat where the memory and feel of those coils linger still. With a sigh, she exhales, Emma wondering what it all means. Is that her mind overacting, or is this some manifestation of her supposed savior powers? Some sort of future prediction, an outcome she should be striving for? Emma just doesn't know, the woman so overcome that she does nothing more than sag in place against the chair. 

How long does she sit like that? How long does Emma take before she realizes there’s something more strange at work here, than the fact the pirate isn't here to keep watch over her sleep. The slap slap slap of an insistent sea, is in rhythm with her heart, Emma at first not understanding just what she is hearing. It’s not the sound of the harbor, not the sound of the ship moored in place by it’s anchor. The ship is moving, and Emma doesn't even immediately realize it, not until it starts to pick up more and more speed.

She lurches up out of the chair then, and takes an unsteady step forward. Trinkets roll past her toes, and books slide along the floor. Anything that isn't already nailed down is in a constant flow of motion, Emma having to be careful where she steps so as not to stub a toe, or cut herself open on some random jewel. There’s a bad feeling alight inside her, one that has nothing to do with the darkness, and everything to do with the pirate. She doesn't want to believe, doesn't want to think he would do this, and yet there’s no other reason why the ship would be sailing.

With a panic building inside her, Emma reaches the door to the cabin. She doesn't even hesitate to cross the threshold, not when so much is at stake now. Not even the dark one could have kept her in that room, not when the pirate places in jeopardy everyone that Emma still holds so dear. A lurch of the ship against a particularly powerful swell of the sea, has Emma hitting a wall. The woman shrugs off that pain, after all she’s known worst since this whole nightmare has started. 

A nightmare that could finally be at an end, a traitorous voice whispers inside her. That selfish thought makes her falter, and then Emma’s jaw clenches with resolve. The woman breaks into a run, her feet all but flying down the long narrow hallway that extends past the cabin to the stairs that led up on deck. It’s not her self preservation that guides her up the stairs, but the faces of her family, her loved ones, Emma thinking of Henry and her parents, and how they will be made to suffer for the pirate’s daring. 

“Hook!”

Her voice heralds her arrival, Emma bursting up onto the deck of the ship. She can't see much of anything, and certainly that inky black swallows up the shoreline so that the woman can't tell how far the Jolly Roger has actually traveled. She’s uneasy either way, Emma not sure where, or rather how much farther out the ship has to go, in order to cross over the cursed boundary that holds Storybrooke separate from the rest of the world.

“Don't do this, Hook!” She can barely make out his form amidst the dark surroundings of the sea. The night sky effortlessly melds into the black waters, and there’s no light from above, not a single star to be found. The ship itself is one big blur, a shadow that betrays nothing of what is around her. The fear of the unknown, combats the worry that she has for her family, and the desperation that she feels, Emma hesitating for one brief second.

With the ship rocking violently, with the waves crashing into it, her footing is unstable. It’s not just that the wooden planks are slippery when soaked, or that the ship’s own bumpy progress threatens to send her flying, but the waves themselves. The water that crashes over the railing of the ship, threatens to sweep all overboard, even Emma Swan. 

“Emma, for God’s sake, get down below deck!” At last he acknowledges her, the pirate sounding both desperate and angry. She can match him feeling for feeling on that, Emma screaming out a furious no. “Emma!” He tries again, and the exasperated tone doesn't lessen the emotion threading through him.

She puts out her hands, feels along the railing, and finds a sturdy rope secured there. It’s not nearly enough to guarantee her safety, and yet Emma has no choice. She grabs onto it for all she is worth, let’s the coarse fiber rub her wet palms raw, Emma following the length of the rope over to where Hook stands lashed to the ship’s helm. He’s got a death grip on it, his hand and his hook working together to keep the ship on it’s forward course. It’s almost amazing, the strength that he exerts, the unflinching manner in which he keeps that wheel from spinning out of control.

“Turn this ship around!” Emma orders him from where she stands gripping the rope and the railing. She’s so close to him, and yet so far, no way to reach him and still hold onto the thick rope. She considers lunging the distance regardless, Emma reasoning it can't be more than a few feet from the rail to the pirate. The wave that crashes over the side, that torrent of freezing water that almost pulls her under, gets the woman to reconsider the risk.

“There’s no other way, Emma!” The pirate shouts at her. He never once looks her way, continues staring unblinking towards the dark horizon. Towards a goal that they both have no way of knowing if it’s at all within reach. It’s the utmost in a foolish, a man’s mad desperation, one that might have warmed her cold heart if her parents and her son weren't the ones about to pay a huge price.

That gets her moving, Emma risking it all to lunge towards the pirate. He screams out her name just as another wave hits, his hand letting go of the wheel, to snag hold of her arm. Alone, his hook is not enough to keep the wheel from turning, that mad spinning causing the ship to veer wildly about. It doesn't stop it’s progress, and as far as Emma can tell, they haven't turned enough.

“What are you doing?!” Killian cries out, hauling her towards him. She takes the advantage this gives her, grabbing onto him with one hand, while slapping him across the face with the other.

“What am I doing? WHAT AM I DOING?!” She’s snarling at him. “I'm trying to save my family! My SON!”

“They'll…” Emma slaps the pirate a second time, slaps him before he can lie and make claim that the three will be fine. 

“Don't you dare!” She angrily screams. “Not when you don't know what it will do!”

“I've a good idea...” His words get him slapped a third time. “Damn it, Emma! Think past your panic, and reason it out. If we can cross that border...”

“I'm turning this ship around.” She shouted over him, letting go to grab hold of the wheel with both of her hands. The irony isn't lost that she trusts the pirate enough to hold on to her while she does this. Another wave crashes over the railing, and it’s only Killian’s secure grip about her waist, that keeps Emma Swan from being swept overboard.

“Emma, LISTEN to me!” He tries again. 

“NO!” 

“Emma!” He lets loose with a feral growl, Emma shaking in response to hear it. It’s too close a sound to something that the darkness would make, and for a second the woman thinks that the monster has at last come back out to play.

God help her, but she’s frightened. Absolutely terrified of the darkness misunderstanding the situation. “I'm not leaving IT.” She shouts out loud, and it’s not just for Killian’s ears, but that of the Dark One’s. “I keep my promises.”

It’s not the Dark One that commands such an allegiance from her, but that of Emma’s family, the woman unable to bear the thought of how they will be made to suffer. She’s not entirely thinking straight, unable to see past her fear, unable to stop thinking of the monster’s threats, the swift retaliation it would no doubt enjoy bringing about. Emma can't let that happen, can't let her family pay the price, no matter how much she actually WANTED to ESCAPE it.

“Emma, you are making a BIG mistake.” The pirate is shouting over the roar of the sea. “If we get over the border, if I get over the border...”

Neither one of them can see much of anything beyond the dark. But they can hear, and it’s not just the malevolent sound of the sea now. It’s the sound of hard canvas flapping, many of the sails suddenly tearing free. The ship doesn't immediately lose it’s propulsion, the angry sea rocking them forward from the force of it’s violent waves.

Other sounds are heard, things snapping apart, heavy metal restraints thumping against the wooden planks of the deck. The rigging is unraveling, is being torn apart by magic. And still the ship goes forward, and now Emma and Killian are both fighting with the spinning wheel. The Jolly Roger gives a great groan of protest, it’s enchanted wood threatening to split apart. The ship doesn't turn so much as spiral out of control, spinning out of the waves to crash up against a solid wall of dark.

“Shit!” She hears Killian swear, but Emma is too busy peering ahead, trying to see if it’s land that they've come up against, or something else. A groan from behind her, Emma not bothering to look at the pirate. 

“We're not going anywhere now.” She announces to him, but it is a hollow feeling victory. “Not with this ship anyway...”

“Emma….” The pirate groans again. “You IDIOT.” She can't stop the gasp, or the shocked look in her eyes as she angrily turns to face him. “You bloody, stubborn fool of a woman!”

“Excuse me for not being a self serving pirate who sacrifices everyone to save her own ass!” Emma retorted. “I wasn't about to let you take me over the border. Not if it meant unleashing the darkness’ idea of retaliation against Henry and my parents!”

“I was going to go over WITH you!” He shouted back at her. “Do you even comprehend what that would have meant?!” His breathing was ragged, Killian’s head slumping forward so that his forehead touched against hers. “The darkness wouldn't have been able to retaliate against your family! Without the magic of Storybrooke, the darkness wouldn't have even been conscious!”

Emma’s anger didn't leave her, though it was warped by her shock. She stammered and stared into Killian’s eyes, into the blue that had yet to bleed free of all color. He sighed in response, his gruff tone sounding so weary. 

“Now do you understand?” He asked. “Emma, we might have just lost our only chance to do this.”

“No.” She said, then shouted it. “NO!” Emma shook her head no, tried to step free of Killian’s arms. “There’s no guarantee. There’s no way to know for sure that the darkness would have been defeated by this.” It wasn't just the pirate that Emma was trying to convince, it was herself, the woman starting to shake. “Even if this had worked, even if it had….my family would still be prisoners of the Queen of Hearts.”

“Cora wouldn't have hurt them anywhere as much as that monster will.” Killian muttered tiredly. 

“No...” Emma breathed out in a panic. “No...it’s going to think that I worked with you, that I wanted this to happen!” She began pushing at him, trying to squirm free. 

“Emma….” 

“This is all your fault!” Her mounting panic gave Emma real strength to the hand she slapped across the pirate’s cheek. His face actually turned to the side from the force of it, the woman pushing again at him. His arms bandied like steel around her, holding her prisoner against him, Emma fighting, screaming, and finally telling the pirate how much she now hated him. 

She couldn't see his expression, couldn't see the look in his eyes, with his face averted by her slap. And yet Emma screamed the words again, wanting Killian to not only believe them, but to make him hurt. It still wouldn't come close to the devastation of her own soul, Emma glaring at the pirate, her exhaustion, the pain, and that hysterical amount of fear, clouding her judgement, keeping Emma from again thinking things through. She shouted the words at Killian Jones, told him not only that she hated him, but that she would never forgive him.

“I never want to see you again!” It was the final blow, Emma breathing so hard that she panted from an exhaustion that was bone deep. There seemed to be no other sound in the dark, no sound but that of Emma Swan breathing, the sea itself having gone quiet. She pushed out again, tried to free herself of the pirate, but his arms tightened around Emma to the point that it was hurting her.

“Hook?” She said his pirate’s name uncertainly, and not without a whimper of sound to her voice. Emma had a bad feeling, a suspicion that scratched at the back of her mind, the unease unsettled inside her. That discordant feeling only grew stronger, as the pirate slowly turned his face towards her. Emma saw the smile, saw the black that had swallowed up his eyes, and the deep gravel that was his---IT’s voice distorting. 

That devastating smile was made all the more terrifying, for the satisfaction in it, the darkness looking ever so pleased. Smiling as though Emma Swan had given it the second greatest gift in all the world. 

“I….I...” Emma stammered uncertainly, unwilling, unable to voice the regret. But she felt it all the same, alarmed by what she had said, with how she might have chased the pirate away for good, Emma shaking for it and the darkness was looking far too happy with the turn of events as they had transpired. As it leaned in to lick her, to taste the despair wetting her cheek, Emma could only pray to whatever God that would listen, for her family, and for herself, for the pirate and for all of Storybrooke, for the mercy that Cora and the Darkness would not show any of them.

 

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had….a love hate relationship with the writing of this. It was going relatively easy until Emma got out on the deck. I actually took a break to go organize some of my book collection, cause the dialogue between Hook and Emma was tripping me up so badly. Thought I wasn't gonna finish the chapter tonight cause of it...but after like an hours break, I came back….but it was a struggle. I kept writing dialogue that I kept trashing as sucking, or at least not good enough. Then I got so stumped at how to write the ending of the chapter, and I am still not sure I did well enough. Feel like I messed up trying to convey how Emma’s fear for Henry and her parents, kept her from thinking clear enough to realize it would be a good idea to get out of Storybrooke if it meant the darkness would go dormant if in a land that had no magic. Then she could always come back with a fuck ton of weapons, to shoot up the place, and make Cora free Henry, Snow and Charming and even the rest of Storybooke. (In theory! Ha! One woman militia! Go Emma go!)
> 
> I have a lot of theories in my head cannon for this fic, things I am not sure how I am gonna write out exactly. Some things I think I have figured out closer….and I think the time is approaching where we will finally get to check in on the fairies. Maybe even in another chapter or two! But some of my head cannon, is stuff that would have best benefited from a Rumplestiltskin narrative...but he’s dead dead dead! I have thought to either have some kind of journal found, or have the knowledge be something Belle was privy to somewhat, so that she could explain. (Which is such a spoiler in terms of by saying all this, you might guess at least what I plan to do with Lacey in a future chapter!)
> 
> \---Michelle


	20. Twenty

It can pinpoint the exact moment when the woman and the pirate both give in to their despair. The exact moment when each heart lays broken, those battered remains holding nothing of hope and happiness, not even the potential of it. There’s nothing, not even a sliver remains for the man or the woman to build upon, the pair drowning as the dark swallows them whole.

It can't help in cracking a smile at that, in letting its triumph gleam steadily in the malevolent black of it’s eyes. It’s approval rumbles out of it, the dark sounding like a great, contented feline that is purring. And just like a cat, it rubs up against Emma Swan, setting off a chain reaction of her repulsed shaking. She’s already moaning in panic, a desperate urgency to her voice as Emma tries to make the dark understand that she had had nothing to do with the pirate’s mad scheme.

It chuckles in response, draws close to nuzzle against her neck. The dark breathes in the scent of her, the fear and the underlying sweetness that is all uniquely Emma Swan. The woman continues to beg, to plead, not realizing that that her breath is wasted with those words. Because the dark already knows, everything from the truth and the lies, to the panic and desperation, to even the moment that Emma Swan had been tempted. That seed of it that had bloomed to life inside her, Emma for one all too brief second considering herself over her family. That should have been the start of the darkness taking root inside her, and yet the brilliant radiance that is Emma Swan, had fought back, had reaffirmed her resolve, her commitment to such sacrifice. 

In that moment, the light inside her had snuffed out that minute trace of the dark. It had expected no less of her, Emma Swan one impressive and worthy opponent. The light to it’s darkness, Emma Swan might just be the missing piece to it’s soul. Certainly she makes a fitting queen to it’s king, the dark grinning, the creature not realizing that by it’s very association with the woman AND the pirate, it is changing. Evolving, becoming something other than it had been. As needy and desperate as it was greedy and grasping, the dark was becoming more and more human like in it’s thinking. It’s no longer pure monster, no longer the embodiment of just evil and fear. It was now lust and it was now desperation, and above all it was obsessed desire. That desire extended past sex with Emma Swan, the dark wanting her all. Anything and everything that Emma had to give, that the dark could forcibly take. 

What it couldn't take, the dark would destroy. The happiness and the hope, the love and the loyalty to her family. Even the attraction, the desire, the woman had had for the pirate. The dark wanted nothing, no one else to exist in Emma Swan’s heart. The darkness wanted her every thought to be about it, for her every desire and urge to be centered around pleasing it. The dark wanted Emma Swan as consumed with obsession as it was with her, and with every push forward, the monster was certain that it came closer to just that goal.

Until then, it would just keep on pushing. Little by little, with every act geared toward it, even the dramatic events that had just unfolded a top the violent sea had been the dark’s doing. It’s smile against Emma’s skin widens with it’s pleasure. With it’s amusement at just what had went down, with how the pirate and the woman had been little more than puppets on a stage of the dark’s devising.

Under it’s malevolent guidance, the dark had LET Killian Jones have control. The pirate had never once stopped to wonder why, to wonder HOW, the man made stupid by his desperation and his hope. With the urgency that he had felt, it and the guilt guiding him, Killian Jones had set a course. The darkness had sat back inside him, had fought it’s laughter, and the perverse thrill that went through it. The dark had let the pirate think his thoughts had been successfully guarded, the man’s hope building. The hope and the desperation, Killian certain that at any second the darkness would rear up and discover the truth of what the pirate was attempting. 

Killian never once realized his folly, the sheer hopelessness of his quest. The dark hadn't needed to read the pirate’s mind, hadn't needed to dive into his most guarded of thoughts. Not when it had already learned all there was of Killian Jones, from every emotion and every fear, the dark fitting inside the pirate, stealing memory and reason and coming away with a schematic of the complete inner workings of the man’s mind.

It was with this knowledge, that the dark had known before Killian Jones had, just what the man had intended to do. That last ditch rebellion, that desperate attempt at escape. It had taken all of the dark not to outright laugh in Killian’s face, the monster reveling in the misery such an endeavor would ultimately create. And it had, a whole chain reaction of misery and despair, of heart break and hatred setting off, the two humans drowning in it, and the darkness hadn't had to do a thing.

The dark didn't once consider it was the catalyst for it all. Didn't once think it’s actions towards Emma were what led the pirate to try to make a break from it. All it did see, was that through the pirate’s actions, Emma had been tested and tempted, and bonds that could have forged stronger had instead shattered apart, the woman angry, hurting, and lashing out. With those feelings twisted in her heart, Emma had all but snarled at the pirate. Words of hatred, and of unrelenting accusation, their power such that the darkness had felt Killian Jones’ slip. 

That sheer determination, that indomitable attempt at fighting the dark, had then faltered, Killian’s heart cracking apart as Emma Swan had dealt the final blow.

“I hate you!” She had said. “I will never forgive you for this!” A pause a for an exaggerated breath, and then Emma, so hurt and so angry, so unthinking in the moment, had told the pirate that she had never wanted to see him again. 

Those words had held power to them, the power to devastate. Killian Jones in that moment, in his distress, had believed her, Emma all but snuffing him out of existence. What Emma didn't kill, the darkness took hold of, the creature effortlessly dragging Killian Jones down. He hadn't even tried to put up a fight, hadn't even whimpered let alone screamed as the darkness buried him deep. For the first time in a long, long while, the darkness was now all alone with it’s thoughts, no lingering remnant of Killian’s voice, his protest and his horror, or his feelings remaining. 

No pirate to color it’s emotion, no weak human screaming near constant in it’s ear, the dark was finally able to truly relax inside Killian’s body. 

Emma was still talking, still downright pleading with it to listen. The dark heard the fear, felt the desperation of her words. The creature took it’s time towards reassuring her, sliding it’s hand and it’s hook down her body, and gripping hold of her rear. That possessive grab, the way it’s clawed finger tips bodily massaged the plump flesh of her ass, it made Emma go still, her whole body a ramrod of tension. The darkness continued to purr it’s satisfaction into her neck, a harsh rasping sound easing up out of it, as it told her to be quiet.

She hadn't liked the command, anymore than the touch, Emma’s own breath gasping out of her in steady, uneven pants. The darkness felt the rise and fall of her breasts against it, felt her chest heave with the woman’s exhaustion. Most of all it felt her resentment, the anger that was directed at the dark and the pirate. That furious blaze inside of Emma Swan, it hadn't yet snuffed out to her regrets, to her doubts, to those uncertain feelings that would leave her questioning the wisdom of all that she had done, and all that she had said. It was Emma’s own mind’s last ditch desperation, the woman not ready, not willing, to examine the foolishness of her choices. When it did, when she finally allowed herself to truly think things through, how much of that anger would turn inwards, Emma realizing yet another of her mistakes? 

Cruel entity that it was, the dark couldn't resist twisting the knife long before Emma was ready. It pressed the woman against it’s still tied body, the restraints that had lashed the pirate to the wheel snapping apart like the flimsiest of paper. Emma was already shaking, already trying to twist free, when the darkness put it’s lips to her ear. The words exhaled out of it, the dark telling Emma that the pirate had been RIGHT.

Emma had jerked back in it’s imprisoning embrace, the palm of the woman’s hands pressing against the dark’s stolen body. The creature allowed this, letting them both pull back enough so that Emma Swan could look the dark in it’s eyes. That searching gaze, the uncertain tremble of her lips, the darkness smiled to it all, quite proud and quite content with it’s triumph.

“Y...you..” Emma stumbled over her words, the woman shaking her head no. The darkness smirked even more, watching as the tremble of her lips evened out, Emma then pressing them together in an angry attempt to hold back. 

“I WOULD have gone dormant in the land with no magic.” The darkness mercifully continued. “You both could have been free. Theoretically.” It added, brushing it’s breath against the woman’s face, as the dark hovered it’s smiling mouth over hers. “But I would have never let that happen.”

It shivered in delight when Emma Swan’s lips parted, the woman breath hissing out of her with a snarl. “Hook never stood a real chance of getting over that border!” Her hands on it’s chest, curled into two fists, Emma pounding them with as much force as she could muster. “You were playing him the whole time!”

She didn't ask it the dark’s reasons why, Emma instead glaring, her green eyes alight with her upset and her fury. Such a strong anger, that fierce emotion was something that the darkness understood, could even relate to. For it too had once been made helpless, held trapped by one man’s will alone. The dark looked at Emma and considered the feelings it had once had had for Rumplestiltskin. The anger and the hatred, and the absolutely feeling of being made powerless. A victim to him, the dark one never again wanted to know such weakness. Never again wanted reason to so much as fear. It’s just one more reason why the dark had felt the need to destroy the pirate, to snuff out the existence known as Killian Jones. 

The woman and her complex feelings was another, the dark still angry, still jealous, the attraction it had just learned of this much closer to driving it insane. It wasn't very happy with the pirate OR the woman, the dark again leaning forward to hiss the truth out in a gloating tone.

“I played you both.”

Emma’s eyes widened at that, the worst of her fists’ fury stilling. The darkness flashed all of it’s teeth with the smirk, the creature speaking with a growling edge to the undertones of it’s voice. “I wanted to see what YOU would do.” It told her. “What choice you would make.”

“It….it was a test?!” Emma repeated in a disbelieving tone. 

“One you did not disappoint me on.” The smug creature told her. It’s expression warped at the look in Emma’s eyes, the darkness taking an a perverse enjoyment out of seeing her shock give way to a darker emotion. 

“Bastard!” Emma spat out, her hand slapping across the dark’s face. It just stared at her unblinking, not bothered by her snarl, or by the slap she had repeated a second and a third time. The darkness let Emma hit it, let her see the futility of such efforts, the monster purring out it’s satisfaction.

“Why?” She finally asked. “Why would you even...” Emma shook her head no then, glaring anew at the darkness. “We had a deal.” She said. “You wouldn't go after my loved ones, and in return I...I...” Another shake of her head. “There was NO need to test that! No need!”

“Such promises aren't worth the breath they are spoken with.” The darkness coldly tells her. “Not when actions always reveal the truth of what is in a heart.” It lets go of her ass, puts that hand instead over her chest, right above where her heart lays protected. Emma shakes in response, then goes absolutely still, a daunting tension inside her as she looks the dark straight in the face.

“Go ahead.” She dares it. “Take my heart if you can!”

The dark one takes interest in the challenge that it senses in the woman’s words, lets itself be tempted for one all too brief moment. “You think I won't?” It asks her, with a mocking arch of it’s eyebrow. “Do you think you that special?” But it’s already sinking it’s fingers inside her, extending those clawed digits deeper and deeper, until it’s almost touching Emma Swan’s heart. 

There’s a slim window of opportunity there, a single moment where the darkness senses the wrong of it. There’s a pain grunt from Emma, a sound that can't strangle the satisfaction in her. The dark sees the gleam of her eyes, sees that the green is both tortured and triumphant, and then the monster is snatching it’s hand back with the realization coming too late. Emma doesn't just THINK she’s special, she KNOWS it, a power surging out of her, It rockets out of her body, the dim glow of her inner luminescence burning the dark and the hand that had been about to grasp hold of Emma Swan’s heart. 

The dark screams out in an agonized way, the clean burst of power sending it flying. Emma hears the sound of it crashing against something on the deck, the woman herself stumbling back, so that she ended up tripping over her own two feet. The wooden deck of the Jolly Roger makes for an unpleasant landing, Emma on her side, cradling a hand to her chest. She can feel the wild beating of her heart, but more than that she can hear the darkness sounding it’s fury. That feral roar, the pure hatred there that of a beast that has been wounded, lets Emma Swan know that she should be very frightened indeed. She can't seem to muster up the energy though, or maybe she’s just beyond caring, laying there, with a mad giggle on her lips.

That scream that the darkness had let out, it sounds out through all of Storybrooke. Good and bad, and everything in between, all quake to hear it, no one knowing the reason behind the monster’s pained displeasure. But they instinctively know that no good will ever bode as a result, and for once the town’s streets empty out. No one but no one wants to be caught out in the darkness’ path, the people of Storybrooke hiding, cowering in fear. 

The endless night has never seemed more fearsome than it does now, the woman known as Lacey not knowing just what that was that had made such an awful sound. But then there’s a lot that she doesn't know, and doesn't come close to understanding, the woman floundering about in the dark. In the evil that she finds herself surrounded by on all sides. The endless darkening of the sky, the way that chaos and crime thrive in the streets. It’s all left Lacey scrambling, the woman grabbing onto the only lifeline she has left. 

Nottingham.

Not that she has had much choice, the dark haired man CHOOSING her. Lacey supposed she should be flattered, should consider herself lucky even. Out of all the women Nottingham could have had, he had picked HER. And for that alone she should be grateful. He was strong, capable, and quick to keep the other men from her. He was also easy on the eyes, with a handsome face, and a penetrating stare that seemed to command respect and fear from so many others. What his reputation couldn't accomplish, his fists took care of, Lacey having had witnessed the man beating more than one rival to a bloody pulp.

But his violence wasn't limited to just his enemies alone. Lacey knew that first hand, and though Nottingham made sure to never mark her face, there was abuse to bear. She could never tell what would displease him, what would trigger him into attack her. Into smacking her around, into slapping his hands repeatedly on her bottom, to pulling her hair. One time he had even used a belt, screaming things at her that she hadn't been capable of understanding. Any more than she could understand the hate that sometimes filled his gaze when the man looked at her.

She saw that look, and the crazy air that he emanated, and Lacey was sure that one day soon Nottingham would go too far. That one day he wouldn't stop until she was dead. Until then, Lacey kept on trying to please, trying to keep from triggering him into hurting her too much. And it wasn't ALL bad, or so she had reasoned. After all, there was a handful of times he had been almost decent to her. Where he hadn't hurt Lacey or used sex against her. 

She'd keep on making excuses. Keep on hiding behind his twisted brand of protection, to the things he provided, the safety and security that came from living under his roof. He kept her fed, and he kept her clean, Nottingham liking the pretty little sight that Lacey made, whether walking through town on his arm, or laying spread out beneath him.

Just like she was now, the brown haired woman panting. Nottingham was in one of his rare moods, all potent sexual aggression with none of the usual violence. With every twist of his fingers, every slurp of his tongue, the man used her pleasure as his arsenal, Lacey crying out in a tortured tone. He talked filthy to her as he did this, tormenting her with fingers that knew just how to break her, Lacey crying out, begging for the climax that she knew Nottingham would not give her.

He said things as he did this, words that defied logic and comprehension, Lacey wondering just who this Rumplestiltskin was, and why Nottingham had held such a grudge against him and her both. He'd say things about his tongue, that filthy but talented tool, Nottingham almost desperate for Lacey to sing of that velvet muscle’s praises. He'd make her say how much she loved and adored it, and how much she would have missed it if that Rumplestiltskin hadn't returned it.

Lacey said the words though she didn't at all understand them. She was pretty sure Nottingham was touched in the head, that there was something damaged inside him. Lacey might have even felt pity for him if she hadn't been sure that Nottingham’s brand of crazy was going to get her killed.

“Please.” Lacey whispered with that thought. Mad as this world had gone, she wasn't yet wanting to die. “Oh please…!”

“You'll have to beg much harder than that, filthy girl!” Nottingham jeered at her. He gave an almost vicious twist of his fingers, Lacey crying out with a yelp. She arched up off the couch, wanting to push him away from her, when she saw it, the mad look in his eyes that was all too abrupt and familiar. “Monster’s whore! I bet he made you do much worst than this!”

There was an irrational gleam to his eyes. A mad glint that matched well with his insane words, the man yelling, screaming at her as he held her down. “Were you already fucking that imp back then?! Is THAT why he took my tongue?!”

That tongue seemed to flash with every exaggerated word, Lacey staring wide eye up at him, struggling, trying to push away and not get hit for her efforts. It only further enraged him, Nottingham grabbing her by the throat, Lacey letting loose with her own scream. Nottingham laughed to hear it, his eyes flashing with hatred. Lacey didn't know who in the moment, Nottingham hated more. Her or the monster that existed in his head, the man sneering, his fist pulling back as though he intended to finally strike it across the woman’s face.

Lacey screamed again, and quickly shut her eyes closed. But the blow never came, not to her face, and not to any other part of her body. Instead she heard violence of a new kind, the door to the apartment being kicked open. The hand choking her was abruptly gone, Nottingham snarling out at the interruption, and Lacey didn't dare look up, not knowing what to expect or to hope for.

She couldn't shut out the sounds around her, the fighting that had broken out. Lacey heard Nottingham swearing, snarling, and at last screaming for help. No one came, no one cared to, the lawless nature of this town such that there was no true loyalties among thieves, murderers, and rapists. Just as there was no mercy, Nottingham’s death abruptly rattling out of him following a sickening squelch. Lacey was aware of gasping, or crying but not for him. Never for Nottingham, the woman instead fearing for herself. Of the danger that she now found herself in, the woman knowing she could be beaten, raped, even killed. The last thing she was expecting, was a heavy fabric to suddenly fall over her lingerie clad body, a gruff voice then telling her that it would be okay. That it would ALL be okay now.

It was words she wanted to believe in, to hope, Lacey risking opening her eyes. She gasped a second time, and louder yet, the woman beholding a man that was half a dozen times more handsome than Nottingham had ever been. It wasn't just his dark and attractive looks, or the quiet compassion in his eyes. It was that air of fierce protectiveness about him, that was focused on her. It lingered there even as he handled the weapon, the dagger, that had just put an end to Lacey tormentor. Her gaze slid to it, taking in the sight of the copious amount of Nottingham’s blood, and even a select few traces of his innards. 

She still flinched when that dagger moved, even as the man carefully kept it away from her. He brought out a cloth, used it to wipe clean the dagger’s blade until it’s polished metal was gleaming anew. And then he sheathed it at his thigh, the man’s gaze studying her. Lacey saw the way that his eyes narrowed when she brought up her hands to clutch at the blanket he had thrown over her. It wasn't that action of hers that he seemed to be objecting to, but the bruises on her arms, the man looking murderous, as though he wished he could kill Nottingham a second time around. 

She didn't know why, but that and the fact he had put his weapon away, reassured her, Lacey letting out a nervous breath. “Th….thank you.” She began to stammer. “Fo…..for saving me...” 

The stranger gave a slow nod of his head, his gaze easing away from the bruised state of her arms to peer into her face. Lacey couldn't help fisting the blanket harder, as she looked at the man, and asked him the question, “Now what?”

“Now?” His voice was a pleasant rumble in her ears, making Lacey feel all warm inside. “Now I want you to come with me.”

“With you?” She was surprised, and only grew more so at the amusement that crinkled to life in his expression.

“You have something better to do?”

She sat there in stunned silence, thinking it over. Her eyes drifted to Nottingham’s body, Lacey wondering how long it would take until the others discovered the man was dead. Her skin crawled at that, the woman knowing what would happen to her, and by whom now that Nottingham wasn't around to offer her his protection.

“No.” She finally whispered it. “I don't.” A tension she hadn't been readily aware of, eased out of him, the man holding out his hand to her. Lacey looked at it for one uncertain moment, then shrugged and brushed her fingers against his own. A strong solid clasp was the answering touch from him, the man slowly helping her to stand up.

“Who are you?” She finally thought to ask. He smiled at her question, that friendly curving of his lips bringing the warmth of her blush to blooming life in Lacey’s cheeks.

“Gaston.” He told her. “My name is Gaston. I and my allies have been waiting a long to meet you.”

“To meet me?” Lacey blinked in surprised. “Why? I am no one special...”

“You've no idea how wrong that you are.” He told her, then nudged her in the direction of the apartment’s bedroom. “Go get dressed. Blue and the others won't begrudge you that much.”

“Blue? Is that the name of one of your allies?” A nod from him was all the answer that she got, Gaston folding his arms across the impressive expanse of his chest. Lacey stared at him for a few seconds more, then slowly backed her way into the bedroom. 

It wasn't until the door closed behind her, that Gaston let out a deep breath. It took every ounce of will power not to curse with that exhalation, with the anger that was in his heart. It wasn't anything that was directed at the woman getting dressed in the other room, and everything to do with the dead man on the floor. On what Nottingham had been doing, and on what the bastard had almost cost them all. Their chance, and their hope, Gaston shuddering to think what would have been lost if he had arrived even a second more too slow.

He paced over to the body, and gave it a vicious kick. It hardly satisfied the anger inside him, and if definitely didn't ease the pain of his heart. Once again he had failed her. And no amount of killing could or would change that, Gaston knowing that Lacey---that Belle was in for a world of hurt when she finally woke up.

 

To Be Continued….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I am really hating on this chapter. I had a real hard time getting it started, partly cause...I was doubting myself something fierce. So I slacked off for a few days, not knowing how the heck to start this chapter. It actually felt like there was stuff I could have shown from any of the three characters, but ultimately I decided to start things off with the dark one’s thoughts.
> 
> I doubted every step (word) or the way, but then started getting into my flow. But then near the end of the Emma Dark One segment, I worried I messed up big time. I still haven't shaken that feeling. And I am beyond unhappy with the Lacey—Nottingham--Gaston segment. Except for how I was able to ease into the start of it. That much I am satisfied with.
> 
> Course I still have to proofread and spell check, so maybe once I do all that, the chapter won't seem so bad to me...Also want to thank my friends Huntress and Zerousy for all their hand holding and pep talks. Sorry I drove you two so nuts with my self doubts. @_@
> 
> \---Michelle


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